


Amehrana

by RedGold



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Celebrity Guest Star, Everybody Lives, Exes can be Friends, F/M, Minor Rufus Carlin/Jiya, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, food truck au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22610737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedGold/pseuds/RedGold
Summary: Food Truck AU where Flynn and Lucy run their own trucks next to each other. That's it, that's the tweet.
Relationships: Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston
Comments: 56
Kudos: 99





	1. Too Many Cooks

**Author's Note:**

> Hrana is food in Croatian. American Croatian fusion food = Amehrana

**Too Many Cooks**

Amy was the personable one. She was the one that was the life of the party. The one that everyone instantly made best friends with. It wasn’t that Lucy was anti-social or a wallflower. She just didn’t people that well when it came to things outside her comfort zone. Amy was probably the same way, but pretty much nothing was outside her comfort zone.

“This will be our base menu,” Amy was talking as the other woman, Lorena, was tasting the rice bowl. “We’ll have seasonal dishes and specials to compliment your beer launches, that kind of thing.”

Lorena had finished all three of the dishes Lucy had cooked up and brought to the Lifeboat Brew Pub. The woman gave an approving nod. “It’s good tasting food, that’s not in question.”

“Thank you,” Lucy was proud of her cooking skills. It was something her family couldn’t take away from her. 

“The thing is, Lifeboat Ale is _the_ premier ale on the western seaboard. We have literally shipped to all seven continents.” Lorena chuckled. “Granted, Antarctica was that one time, but it still counts.”

The woman wasn’t boasting unnecessarily. Lucy had known about the company well before now. She’d even visited the Lifeboat on a few occasions, for parties and such. Amy had suggested it as a place to start her bachelorette’s party until everything in her life fell apart. So when Amy set up this meeting, Lucy thought she was crazy to even try.

“People come from around the world to visit and they need to be fed because you can’t have a good beer on an empty stomach,” Lorena continued. “But Connor Mason, the owner and Brew Master, doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of having a restaurant. Hence the four food truck slots outside. Now, Indian Soul and Southern Discomfort were already established with large followings before we picked them up. And Amehrana, well, he’s family.”

When Lucy heard that Amehrana was family, that made a lot more sense. Not that the food wasn’t good—it was amazing actually—but the people running it were just so… not very personable. The seller out front looked like he hadn’t cracked a smile a day in his life. And the chef? Lucy had tried to ask him a very reasonable question, even complimenting his food, but he barely grunted out an answer through the window.

“I am spoilt for choice when it comes to what food truck I can put in the fourth spot.” Lorena sat back in her chair. “All with food just as good. So tell me, why should I chose you? A truck that isn’t even a month old?”

And there it was. Lucy told Amy they should have waited to build up a base before trying to go after something like a prime spot at the Lifeboat. The four trucks there were guaranteed large crowds and big sales. The previous fourth truck, from what Lucy heard, wanted to move up into Northern California, creating this opportunity.

“For starters,” Amy jumped in, “Lucy’s offers a menu that doesn’t overlap with the other four trucks, giving your customers more variety.”

Lucy tried not to cringe at the name of her truck. She had wanted to come up with something clever and nothing ever seemed to materialize. Amy had said ‘what’s wrong with Lucy’s? everyone loves Lucy!’ and Lucy damn near took her own face off with the amount of facepalm she did.

Her sister continued to extoll the virtues of their food truck. She mentioned how Lucy loved looking through old menus and cookbooks. Some even went back to medieval times. Lucy would then give them a modern and healthier makeover. And reduced that to convenient street food.

“You’ve been rather quiet,” Lorena said to Lucy, nearly startling her as she was thinking about, well, food. “Been letting your sister do all the talking.”

“She’s the saleswoman,” Lucy pointed out. “I’m just the cook.”

“Just the cook?” The woman frowned at her. “The cook is the heart and soul of any food truck, restaurant, home kitchen… and that soul shows in every plate of food they let pass out of their hands.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” Lucy gave an appreciative nod.

Lorena picked up what was left of the rice bowl. “So tell me chef, what kind of heart do you bring to the table?”

It was the hardest and easiest question to answer. With a long breath, Lucy told her the truth. “My mother wanted me to join the family business. I told her I wanted to be my own chef. Cook what I want to cook. I tried to open a restaurant, but she has powerful friends and blocked avenues that should have been available to me.”

Amy reached over and squeezed her hand. Her little sis had been there the whole way, supportive and cheering her on.

“She didn’t block the food truck loan,” Lucy continued, gaining momentum as she let it all out, “because she thought this it is, this is how I fail. This is how I end up crawling back to her. So whether or not you let us set up here, my heart is going to do what it wants to do, and it is going to succeed. I am going to cook the best food I can, and share that with whoever walks up to that window.”

Lucy wasn’t going to let her mother, or her family, walk all over her. Not again. Whatever happened today, Lucy was going to find a way to make her food truck succeed.

“Well,” Lorena gave her a slightly crooked smile, “I think I’ve heard enough.”

…

“I finished stuffing the govedina,” Iris told him as she laid the last herb-and-cheese-stuffed ground beef patty into the plastic storage box, and then shoved that into the fridge under the prep station.

“Thank you, _mala cvijeta_.” Flynn smiled over at her as he finished chopping up the vegetables. It was Friday night, and a beautiful one at that, so good prep was the key if he was going to get through it without accidently teaching his ten-year-old daughter another Croatian curse word. 

“Can I mix the sauce?” Her eyes lit up, going nice and round. 

“Go ahead.” He couldn’t say no to her. “I’m right here if you need me.”

Years ago, if someone told him he would be standing inside a food truck, cooking up Americanized Croatian food, with his daughter, he would have told them to piss off. Of course, at the time, just the thought that he would be able to spend any time with his daughter seemed like a foreign concept. 

War… war is hell.

After losing his father to the Croatian War of Independence, Flynn joined up for something he was not ready to handle. But damn was he good at fighting. And fight he did, jumping around from place to place, wherever someone like him was needed. 

Then he met Lorena, whip smart and kept him on his toes. Fell in love, settled down, had a beautiful little girl who was his whole world. The problem was, his world was full of monsters. He kept trying to chase them, to fight them. Any fight would do. Because fighting was all he knew how to do.

He never brought it home, never made Lorena or Iris afraid of him. But that just meant he didn’t come home sometimes. He started to put distance between them. He tried to protect them… from himself. The self-loathing was part of the PTSD, he knows that now, but at the time, all he could think about was how much he let them down. They wanted a husband and father, and all they got was a weapon that was used and abused.

And then he... no, he didn’t want to think about that... what might have been.

Lorena never gave up on him, it wasn’t in her nature. She made him get help, see a therapist, go to meetings. In the healing process, he accepted there was no going back to way things were. He broke something between them and there was no fixing it. When they signed the divorce papers, they told each other they would always be friends, always be there for each other if they needed it.

“Don’t put too much cinnamon in that,” Flynn called out gently as she was throwing dashes of the spice into the mix.

“I know, _tata_.” Iris gave him a look that was clearly from his genetics, so he only had himself to blame.

His little girl was growing up and becoming quite the little chef. It was something they could share. It was something the wars couldn’t take away from him.

“Knock knock,” Lorena said, walking up into the truck. “Oh, it always smells so good in here.”

“That’s kind of the idea,” Flynn deadpanned.

“ _Tata_ ’s letting me make the sauce for the govedina,” Iris said excitedly, holding the mixing bowl out. 

Lorena grabbed a plastic spoon and tasted it, then promptly went a little red. “That has some kick to it.”

“Yes!” Iris said gleefully and Flynn chuckled lightly. 

“Anyway…” Lorena grabbed a bottle water. “I just came by to remind you that the new food truck comes in today. They’ll be between you and Southern Discomfort.”

It was almost reflex to growl low in his throat when he heard the name of that food truck. It was Southern cooking, but everything was smothered in hot sauce. Yes, Flynn liked his food spicy, but what was the point of eating something if you couldn’t taste it, or anything else, for twenty minutes? They were popular though, which was the only reason Mason kept them on even though the chef, one Emma Whitmore, was deserving of several of those Croatian curse words.

“These new guys are literally new,” Lorena explained. “So be nice, they’ll probably have some growing pains.”

“I’m always nice,” Flynn defended himself. 

Both his ex-wife and his daughter looked at him with the same expression of ‘are you fucking kidding me?’

“Nice is a relative term,” he tried again.

Lorena laughed and shook her head, then looked to Iris. “I will be coming to get you at nine, okay.”

“Yes, mama,” Iris said in that deflated way kids do when they know pouting will get them nowhere.

“Love you.” Lorena kissed the top of Iris’ head. As she started to leave, she pointed at Flynn, reminding him. “Play nice.”

Flynn grumbled something and went back to slicing up the vegetables. Of course he would be nice, so long as these newbies weren’t, you know, deserving of him not being nice.

…

It was only the first day, Lucy could expect to do horrible. She didn’t have a following, not like the other three trucks. She was unknown quantity. It would take some time to earn the trust of the customers, especially the regulars. So long as she played things smart, didn’t over-extend herself, then when she got her momentum, she would be able to ride it to profits even her mother couldn’t argue with.

Knowing this did nothing to calm the nerves in her stomach. What if she got no customers? What if her truck was completely ignored? What if she messes up her recipes and gets a reputation for being bad? What if she sets her truck on fire?

Her claustrophobia started to creep up on her, but she wouldn’t let it win. She wanted to cook, and if this was the only way…

“Breathe!” Amy said as she rubbed Lucy’s back. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Fine, yeah, fine,” Lucy repeated, nodding like a bobble head. Yep. Totally convincing.

“I am not late,” Jiya said as she ran up the steps into the truck. “I want it to be known.”

Lucy let out an involuntary laugh. “I never doubted you.”

“As it should be,” Jiya said with a wink and a smile as she put on her apron. 

Amy was Lucy’s sister, she loved her to death, would bury a body for her, but the girl could not cook... at all. She could burn toast just by looking at it. But she was an amazing saleswoman, the best. So she would be the seller outside, taking orders. 

That left Lucy alone in the truck which wouldn’t be bad on a slower day, as long as she got all her prep done. But for a Friday night? If she did even half the business the other trucks normally got, she’d need an extra pair of hands. That’s where Jiya came in. She was a chemical engineering student at the same school Amy was getting her journalism degree. During Amy’s birthday party last year, well, mistakes were made, and Jiya turned out to be quite a good sous chef.

“Let’s get prepping,” Lucy told her and they divided up their tasks. Jiya got all the proteins, Lucy the vegetables and starches. Amy checked the paper goods, making sure they hadn’t forgotten the boats, napkins, forks and the like. 

“It’s about time to open,” Amy said and Lucy panicked for a moment, then realized that no, she was pretty much done, she had timed this right. “You want to set the menu?”

Lucy tossed her disposable gloves in the trash and washed her hands. “Yeah, good idea to get that out of the way.” 

They found themselves standing outside, looking at the whiteboard that had all sorts of lovely curly-cues drawn around the edges thanks to Amy. Knowing what was going to be on the menu, that was the easy part. Pricing it? She knew how much money for material goods went into each dish... but obviously she wanted to profit. How much was her time worth? Her effort? And how much would people pay?

After Amy had to nudge her, Lucy put down prices that were on par with what she had seen the other trucks were pricing. She thought maybe they were a little high, but they obviously sold. This was a different crowd from what she was used to in her short time, so she trusted they knew what they were doing.

Next door, the seller for the Amehrana truck started to open up, pulling open the canopy. He was a dour looking gentleman, the kind of guy who played guitar in the bands that would set up in a Brew Pub. His hair was just a little too long, his facial hair deliberately scruffy, a burgundy pin stripped button up over a dark blue t-shirt and jeans. He was basically color coded with the burgundy colored food truck.

“Boss,” he said as he banged on the glass. “Menu.”

Amy snorted lightly. “Nice to know he’s still a man of few words.”

Lucy was going to make a glib comment in response, but was cut off by her own breath when the chef came down the steps. He was... tall. Later she would wonder how he didn’t bump his head every time he turned around. At that moment she was a little taken aback that he was not at all what she imagined from his gruff demeanor. He was... soft, wearing a linen button up also in burgundy with a black waist apron that was dusted in flour. His dark hair was just long enough to fluff forward, almost, but not quite, in his eyes. He was... 

“Sex on a stick,” Amy said beside her. 

“Amy!” Lucy nearly choked on her sister’s comment. 

“Am I wrong?” 

Lucy rolled her eyes and finished putting the final touches on the menu board. 

“You should go say hi,” Amy nudged her. 

“Yes, I should,” she replied pointedly. “I should introduce myself to all the trucks. We’re going to be working together, in a way.”

“Sure.” Amy simply grinned. 

Glancing over at the other trucks, no one else was out yet. So Amehrana it was first. Lucy walked across the edge of the outside sitting area set off to the side of the Lifeboat. The trucks basically boxed in the courtyard. Amehrana was on the far end, then Lucy’s and Southern Discomfort sat across the side with Indian Soul boxing in the other end towards the street.

“Um, hello,” Lucy said, awkwardly holding out her hand as the men turned their attention to her. “I’m Lucy, of Lucy’s. The food truck, right there. Um, we’re neighbors.”

That went a lot better inside her head.

“Flynn,” the chef eventually took pity on her, shaking her hand. “This is my seller, Karl.” His voice was graveled and laced in a foreign accent. Lucy assumed Croatian since a small Flag of Croatia was hanging off the window. 

“I’m a bit of a fan, uh, of your truck,” Lucy stuttered. “You might not remember, but I asked you about the stuffed jalapenos? About the binder you used to keep the filling from breaking apart after the first bite?”

Flynn raised a single brow and she couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. “I remember.”

“Well, I... I thought it was genius.” She should probably just stop talking but he was a little intimidating, for more reasons than Lucy could articulate in the moment.

He smirked and said, “Are you calling me a genius?” 

“Ah...”

“ _Tata_!” a voice called from the stairs into the truck. A young girl with her light brown hair was leaning out. She was biting her lip. “I put cayenne in the second batch of sauce instead of cinnamon. I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay, _mala cvijeta_ ,” he was devastatingly soft with the girl. “We’ll see if we can salvage it for something else. Start another batch and I’ll be right in.”

She nodded, likely feeling better that he was trusting her to try again. It was the kind of support she wished her mother would have given her. Oh, her mom would let her try again, but while leaning over her shoulder, directing every dash and pinch of seasonings.

“Is that your daughter?” Lucy asked, there was definitely something familial between the two.

“Yeah.” He smiled and it was unbearably adorkable. “Iris.”

“Iris,” Lucy repeated the name. “And you let her work on the truck with you?”

Lucy didn’t mean to sound rude about it. Far from it. She was simply surprised because no way would her mother have let her do something like this, as fun as Lucy would have found it. Hell, her mom wouldn’t even let Lucy mix a bowl of cake batter unless it was the proper bowl and she used the proper mixer, measured with the proper tools, and done over the sink in case of spillage, mixing for an exact amount of time. Everything was so... controlling. 

Lucy was trying to say that it was a good thing he didn’t put his daughter through something similar.

But it came out as rude.

Flynn’s manner completely changed, turning defensive. “She doesn’t handle the knives or work on a heat source.”

“I... I didn’t mean to imply it was unsafe,” she tried to explain. “I was just... surprised, that’s all, that you’d let her work with you.”

“She can cook circles around half the chefs in this city,” Flynn nearly growled and something snapped in Lucy, also getting defensive.

“You are completely misreading what I’m trying to say.” Lucy was not going to let him purposefully intimidate her.

They faced off, him staring down at her, but she wasn’t going to have any of it. She had spent too much of her life cowering to her mother, to her family. And something about this man begged to be tamed, a defiance that wanted a push-back. 

He broke first, glancing over at Karl who was watching the exchange impassively. “Take your smoke break before it starts to get busy. Don’t want you stinking up the place.”

“Sure, boss,” he replied, seemingly taking no offense.

“If you’ll excuse me, Lucy.” Flynn didn’t wait for a reply, just walked back to the stairs and nearly stomped up them. But he stopped on the middle step and took a long, deep breath. Lucy got the impression he was calming himself so he didn’t take any of what just happened into the truck with his daughter. Lucy had to appreciate that.

The distinctive sound of a pack of cigarettes being hit against a palm turned her attention to Karl. He was looking completely unimpressed, pulling a cigarette out and bringing it to his lips. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” 

He then walked off to the smoking area at the far side of, well, everything. 

Flustered, Lucy used the walk back to her truck to clear her mind. She had plenty more important things to worry about, like not burning her truck down during what would hopefully be her biggest night since opening the truck.

“Went well, I take it,” Amy said neutrally. 

“Thank god his food is good.” Lucy couldn’t deal with... whatever Flynn was.

Indian Soul was setting up their menu, a perfect reason to ignore the smirk that her sister was giving her. Lucy headed over to the food truck and the woman standing outside. The truck had an a-frame display board that looked well used. Lucy knew they’d been around for a while.

“Hello,” Lucy greeted the woman whose long dark hair starkly framed her face. She was wearing a light blouse and slacks, her apron covered in a colorful pattern that was so beautiful it could have been on the walls of an Indian palace.

“You must be Lucy,” she easily replied, shaking her hand. “I’m Denise. And it’s nice to see some young blood in here. It’ll keep things fresh.”

“That was one of our selling points.” Lucy laughed despite herself. 

“That’s my better half, Michelle.” Denise pointed to the window where she could see a black woman sorting her supplies. “I’m the Indian and she’s the Soul.”

“I see.” Lucy nodded, remembering trying their food once. It was traditional soul food but with an Indian twist, an amazing mix of spices. “I had your curry spiced hush puppies before. Inspired.”

“It’s one our best sellers,” Denise said appreciatively, then looked slightly over Lucy’s shoulder. “Don’t let Flynn fool you. He’s a bear, of the teddy variety.” 

Lucy nearly did a double-take. “You heard our conversation?”

“No, just saw you were talking to him, and I know Flynn.” Denise let out a helpless sigh and shrug. “He’s a good man, just very rough around the edges. Doesn’t play well with others. But, when it comes down to it, he’s really just an old softy.”

“Huh.” Lucy resisted looking back over her shoulder. She had seen Flynn be soft with his daughter, and then he let Lucy stare him down. She had no reason to think Denise was wrong in her assessment. Plus, if she remembered correctly, Indian Soul and Amehrana had been there the longest. “Can I ask you something? Lorena said that Amehrana was family. What did she mean by that?”

“Flynn is her ex-husband,” Denise answered plainly. “Iris is their daughter.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t the answer she was expecting, though she realized she wasn’t sure what she _was_ expecting to hear. “I thought Lorena and the owner… um.”

“Are basically married?” Denise smirked. “Lorena and Flynn divorced years ago, but it was amicable. I know the details, but they aren’t mine to share. Lorena was in design and construction. She was hired by Mason to help build all this that you see. It started off a third of the size.”

“I did some reading up on the history and expansion of the Brewery,” Lucy told her politely so the woman wouldn’t think she’d have to repeat it all. “It didn’t get into these details though.”

“Well, Lorena and Mason hit it off. Now she basically runs things so he and that Brew Engineer of his can play with their recipes all day.” Denise made a vague gesture towards the other end of the building that held all the tanks for the brewery part of the Brew Pub. “They live in a penthouse about two blocks away, with Iris. We were set up on the street proper then, and Flynn would pass by a lot. He’d stop, eat, and talk. Turns out he had an itch for cooking.”

“Oh, I know that feeling.” Lucy nodded.

“Don’t we all.” Denise chuckled. “Anyway, Flynn turned out to be a natural when it came to street food. He was also looking to change professions. Next thing we all know, this area was built, big enough to hold four food trucks. Michelle and I were invited to set up. Not long after, Flynn came in with his truck, and we had two others. Southern Discomfort has been here just over a year now.”

It was a nice little set up. Flynn could see his daughter all the time, and do something he was passionate about. It made her wonder why he was so grumpy. Perhaps that was his default setting?

“Denise,” Michelle called from inside the truck.

“Be right there,” Denise called back, then addressed Lucy. “Good luck tonight. Remember, don’t try to run a marathon in a mile.”

“I’ll try not to, and thanks.” Lucy smiled and let the woman get back to work.

Patrons were starting to hit the bar, soon they’d want food, so Lucy needed to get back to her own truck. But there was just enough time to say hello to the Southern Discomfort chef. The woman wasn’t hard to find. Wearing a green blouse and having red hair to match her hot sauce, she was standing on the bottom step of her truck, leaning against the frame, watching Lucy. 

“Hello, I’m—”

“Lucy Preston,” the woman cut her off. “I know.”

“Ah…” That immediately threw Lucy for a loop.

“I also know who your father is,” the woman continued, smirking like she caught the biggest fish of the day. “Or rather, your real father. You’re a regular princess to a food empire.”

“What they serve at those fast food places isn’t food.” This fact never failed to make Lucy angry. “It’s junk that’s unhealthy, questionably sourced, served by poorly underpaid staff, and—”

“And beloved across the country,” she laughed. “Your family is rolling in it. I bet you went to all the best cooking schools. Traveled the world?”

Lucy’s throat dried up. There was no discounting that yes, she came from privilege. She didn’t ask to be part of the Rittenhouse Restaurant Group’s legacy, but it was part of her none the less.

“Some of us had to earn our way here.” She turned and walked back up into her truck saying, “Run along little princess, run along.”

The evening hadn’t even started yet and already Lucy was hated by two out of three of her fellow food truck owners. 

Yeah… everything was going just _great_.


	2. Dumpster Diving

**Dumpster Diving**

As predicted, Lucy started slower than the others. Most of the regular Friday night goers had their favorites they headed to without so much as a glance in her direction. But there were plenty of curious patrons who made their way over, beers in hand. Amy took their orders while Lucy and Jiya had their system. Jiya worked the griddle, getting the proteins cooked. Lucy handled her sauces and everything else, making sure the food was seasoned and put together correctly.

She never got the long lines that the other trucks did, but her sales were near constant and it kept them busy throughout the dinner rush. 

“Lucy,” Amy called through the window. “Special order.”

Lucy took the slip and didn’t see anything special about it, but when she glanced up she saw Connor Mason and Lorena standing in front. He was dressed in a very expensive looking button-up of a color that complimented his dark skin. He was chatting with a third man who was wearing a hoody in stark contrast to Mason’s outfit. Lucy almost thought the man was Mason’s son but then remembered Mason didn’t have any kids. 

Well, Lucy always made her food with as much care as possible for the situation she was in, they would be no different. Finishing up the order quickly, it looked like there were a few minutes reprieve outside. 

“Take a break,” she told Jiya as she pushed the food out the window to Amy. “I’m going out to, um, socialize.”

“I’ll grab the fire extinguisher,” Jiya replied with near dead seriousness.

“That’s a good call.” Lucy nodded then headed out, Jiya following behind for ‘fresh air.’

“Ah.” Lorena gestured to Lucy as soon as she exited the truck. “Here's the chef now.”

“Miss Lucy, is it?” Mason said in his British accent, giving her a politely firm handshake. “What a pleasure to have a fresh face out here.”

“Grub’s not bad either,” the other man said between bites.

Mason gave an annoying fond look at the man, then said, “This is my Brew Engineer, Rufus. Please excuse his lack of social manners.”

Rufus made a face and then nearly choked on a chunk of chicken when he spotted Jiya. This did not go unnoticed by anyone. Rufus cleared his throat. “I’mma gonna get a Shikanjvi from Indian Soul.”

“That’s like a lemonade, right?” Jiya said. “I’ve been wanting to try it.”

“Ah, yeah,” Rufus mumbled but Jiya started walking with him down to the end where Indian Soul was set up.

“Hhmmm,” Mason watched them go. “My sympathies to your sous chef. Rufus can flirt about as well as a salmon can breathe out of water.”

Amy looked thoughtful. “You mean he’ll flap around for a few minutes then die?”

“Verily,” he replied, then turned back to Lucy. “I do think your food is right good, though I learned never to doubt Lorena, she has excellent taste.”

“Cheek,” Lorena said fondly. 

The conversation turned to general niceties, Mason getting to know his new food truck team and they him. They talked about an upcoming ale release in two weeks and what to expect, etc. It was a short conversation, Lucy having to pop back in a few times to put together some dishes for the late crowd.

“Now, you’re welcome to stop selling whenever you like,” Lorena reminded them. “Indian Soul shuts down around nine-thirty. Amerhana and Southern Discomfort stay open rather late on Fridays and Saturdays. Usually until they run out of food or the late-night party goers finally wander off.”

“I haven’t really developed a late-night menu, yet,” Lucy said. “But it’s something we’re considering.”

Mason added, “Never overextend yourself. Not at the beginning. Business is like chess, you need to think twelve steps ahead and don’t sacrifice your pawns too soon.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” Lucy smiled. After the not-so-warm welcome from Southern Discomfort and Amerhana, it was good to know that someone was on her side.

“It’s nine,” Lorena looked at her watch. “I’m going to pick up Iris and we can head home.”

“Yes.” Mason nodded, then gestured to over where Rufus and Jiya were talking, well, arguing actually. “And I should rescue... one of them.”

They both walked off in separate directions, leaving Lucy with Amy. Her sister saying, “Well, you want to close up at ten?”

“I’m exhausted,” Lucy admitted. She had worked harder in one day than she had the whole month of having her food truck combined. “Clean-up is going to take a bit, so yeah, good idea not to stay open too late.”

Lucy glanced over to see Flynn giving Iris a hug. It didn’t look sad, it was a seeya later, and he ruffled her hair as he stood. Iris then turned to Karl who actually, maybe, could it be, cracked a smile as he held his hand out for a rather enthusiastic low-five from Iris.

Iris waved goodbye and then started walking with Lorena towards, well, probably Mason, but it took them past where Lucy and Amy were standing. 

“Iris, this is Lucy,” Lorena introduced them. “She’s taken over Crushed Rice’s spot.”

“Hi,” Lucy smiled at the girl who was as dusted with flour as her father. “Nice to meet you.”

“I know you,” Iris said thoughtfully, for a ten-year-old anyway. “You’re the lady _tata_ kept mumbling about.”

“Did he now?” Amy said with a smirk.

Lorena just sighed. “Garcia can be a prickly one, until he gets to know you. Don’t take it personally.”

“I won’t,” Lucy assured the woman who, well, Lucy had to trust. She had been married to the man for several years. And they were apparently still on good terms. After all, Flynn was set up outside Lorena’s new beau’s business, and no one seemed bothered by this. “I’m sure he’s a good person, under all that gruff.”

“There’s a lot of gruff,” Lorena said with a bit of a chuckle.

“Lorena, dear?” Mason called from where he was physically standing between Rufus and Jiya and looking rather overwhelmed. 

“Coming,” she called back, then looked at Lucy and Amy. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ladies.”

They said their goodbyes and she headed towards Mason. Southern Discomfort’s seller, a blonde woman in jeans and black tank top, took a moment to give Iris a two-handed high five. Emma rolled her eyes and walked back into the truck. Not much for kids it seemed. As least the seller was nice. What was her name... Jan? No, Jess.

Lorena and Iris reached Mason and the others. A few words were exchanged, Rufus walked off, back into the pub with Jiya looking a little flustered. Lorena linked her arm with a rather relieved Mason and headed to the courtyard’s exit. When they passed Indian Soul, they paused for a moment while Iris laughed with Mark and Olivia, who Lucy learned was Denise and Michelle kids.

“Kids that cute should be illegal,” Amy said but there was absolutely no bite in her words.

Jiya finally made her way to the truck. “Sorry, got distracted. How long are we staying open?”

“Are you okay?” Lucy asked the more important question. 

“Yeah, why?” Jiya said with a completely straight face. “Just because _some_ people can’t admit that they are totally wrong in believing structural biology is chemistry... I can’t help that stupidity.”

Lucy glanced over at Amy who looked just as lost, saying, “I’m a journalism major.”

"At least we’re on the same page,” Lucy replied, smiling. More people started to wander in, they were about to get another wave.

For the next fifteen minutes, Lucy prepared dishes while listening to Jiya go on and on about Rufus and how annoying he was. At one point, Amy felt the need to mouth ‘the lady doth protest too much’ and Lucy had to stifle a laugh. But they worked quickly and efficiently, this being the biggest night she’d had yet.

And she didn’t even burn down the truck!

“I’ll take the trash to the dumpster,” Lucy told them as she picked up the two bags they managed to fill. “I’ll be right back.”

Lucy walked out of the food truck gingerly, trying not to catch the plastic on anything. Clearing the steps, she headed around the back side of the courtyard. There was a path that traveled the whole length, from street to street, with gates that could be locked up at night. 

Past Amerhana were the dumpsters which were tucked into an alcove at the end of the path, facing the street so they could get picked up by the garbage trucks. 

There was also a privacy wall behind Amerhana which Lucy thought was just there to delineate the edge of the courtyard, but behind it was an RV sitting quietly. It was a nice one, large, the kind that someone could live in comfortably. She wondered if it belonged to one of the staff members, maybe Rufus.

“Shit,” Lucy mumbled as she realized the lids were down on the dumpsters. 

Sitting down one of the bags, she grabbed the lid and attempted to lift it high enough to throw the other bag in. That did not work out for her and she almost busted the bag on the lip of the dumpster. Next, she tried to push up the side of the lid to flip it open but she couldn’t get a good angle on it due to the dumpster being in the alcove.

“Here,” someone said as they grabbed the lid.

Lucy looked over her shoulder to see Flynn. With his considerable height he was able to hold the lid up high enough for her to easily toss her bags into the dumpster. 

“Thank you,” she said as she stepped back so he could throw his own trash bag in.

“Anytime,” he nearly mumbled.

There was a moment where Lucy thought maybe she should try to apologize to Flynn. Well, not so much apologize but clear the air. It was all a misunderstanding. But he had jumped pretty quickly to conclusions on her.

“Listen, about earlier,” he said after he closed the lid. “I overacted. That was on me.”

“I, ah, could have been more articulate,” Lucy admitted. “But thank you. I wish my mother had been as kind and considerate of a teacher as you are to your daughter.”

“Thanks.” He stood there awkwardly. “You, ah, closing up?”

“Yes,” she said reluctantly. “I’ve not quite gotten used to working a food truck. I’m absolutely exhausted.”

“I remember those days.” Flynn smirked at her. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Doing Saturday lunch?”

“And dinner.” Lucy went absolutely blank faced. “I’ll probably be dead by the time it’s all over.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he promised her and she found she believed him. “If you need any advice, just let me know.”

“Thanks, I might just take you up on that.”

He simply smiled at her, and Lucy could see what everyone was talking about when they said he wasn’t as big of a grouch as he let on. Although she hadn’t expected to see this side of him at the dumpsters of all places.

“Boss,” Karl called out from down the path.

“Gotta go,” Flynn told her. “We stay open till after 2am on Fridays.” 

“Get a lot of business?” she asked quickly, walking with him back to the courtyard.

“Bars start to close, and drunk people are hungry,” he chuckled.

Two o’clock in the morning? Might be something for her to consider in the future. Right now, she just wanted to go home and soak her feet.

…

By the sixth weekend, Lucy had really started to get her rhythm. She knew what sold better, how much to buy, and how to keep better organized for the rush.

Jiya was a major help, keeping Lucy stocked with all the prepped ingredients she needed to prepare her dishes. On her breaks it was becoming common to see Jiya chatting, or, well, arguing with Rufus. They could have just as easily ignored each other, not that Lucy was going to point that out.

Outside, Amy was having a grand old time, pitching to potential customers. She even started to get into little, ‘friendly,’ selling wars with the others. Well, mostly with Jess. The sellers for Indian Soul rotated between Denise, Mark, and Olivia. Karl would join in the wars sometimes, but only on the days an Indie Grunge Punk Band had set up for live entertainment. 

Amy and Jess both decided that was cheating as the crowd that came in on those days were his people.

Regardless, Lucy was starting to pull in her own set of regulars. The kinds of people who came up and always asked for the same thing and happily smiled as they walked away, food in hand.

But it created a lot of garbage, Lucy having to take a trip to the dumpster a few times a day. It seemed to become a thing that Flynn would take his trash out at the same time, often having to hold up the lid for her.

“So, American-Croatian fusion,” Lucy said to make small talk once as they walked down the path, past the RV. “Any particular reason? Other than the obvious?”

“My mother was American, from Texas,” he said with fond nostalgia. “My father was Croat and I grew up there. Mama and my baba, um, grandmother, would have long discussions about food. I pretty much grew up eating fusion food.”

“That sounds really nice.” Lucy smiled at him, they had reached the dumpsters. “Did you get any recipes from them?”

“Old notes and things,” he answered as he lifted the lid for her. “Baba passed away before the War. Mama when Iris was two.”

“I’m sorry,” she said and she wanted to mention that her father, well the man she considered her real father, had passed away as well, but this wasn’t about her. 

He seemed to be able to read the story in her eyes and nodded his thanks. “She got to see Iris, before she passed, and she said she saw Gabriel in her, and that made her happy.”

“Gabriel?” Lucy asked as she threw in her second bag.

Flynn paused, then threw his own bags in. “My half-brother. He, uh, passed away, as a child, from a bee sting.”

“I’m so sorry,” she replied softly.

“It is what it is,” he tried not to show how much it affected him, and she didn’t push. Then he shook his head as if he wasn’t sure why he was telling her all of this, though he wasn’t angry. “Let’s head back.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, and they walked back to the trucks in contemplative quiet, side by side.

…

The next week her mother called, asking if Lucy had grown tired of this food truck fad and was ready to come back and work for the family. Thankfully Lucy had been working on her ledger and seen that she was doing better than expected. This gave her the extra boost of courage to tell her mother no.

It made her feel really good about the following Friday… which all went to hell.

“I don’t know why it won’t turn on,” Jiya was saying of the gas burner. 

All the food was prepped, they just needed to start cooking it. But they had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to get the burner to light with no luck. The evening crowd had started to meander in and soon they’d want to eat.

Lucy was under the counter, checking the connection. “The valve is open, but there’s no pressure.”

If they didn’t get the burner working, then she basically couldn’t cook most of her dishes. Without propane, all she had was the griddle. She didn’t have a fryer, opting to use that space for other stuff. She couldn’t put her saucepans on the griddle, and it was her sauces that really made her meals.

“What’s wrong?” Amy asked when they walked outside to examine the gas tank attached to the truck. 

“We’re not getting any propane,” Lucy told her.

“Did someone hit it with a hammer?” Jiya asked, examining the now twisted valve that connected the tank to the truck.

“Something hit it.” It couldn’t have been deliberate, could it? “This is just _great_. I’ll have to call someone in to fix it. They’ll charge triple for after hours.”

Lucy rubbed her face, trying to decide what was going to cost her more. Closing down for the weekend or paying the after-hours service fees.

“Everything okay?” Flynn asked and she nearly jumped. He had been outside doing his menu when he must have seen them standing there looking perturbed. 

“Our propane tank has been damaged.” Lucy pointed to the bent valve. 

Flynn squatted down and looked at it, fiddling slightly. “Karl!”

“Yeah, boss?” the man shouted back.

“Turn off the stove, take the pots off, and have Iris come sit outside,” he said as he stood. “I’m going to grab my tool kit and fix this.”

“Yeah, boss.” Karl walked up into the food truck and Flynn started to walk off.

“This could take a while,” Lucy stopped him. “You’ll lose a lot of customers.”

Indian Soul and Southern Discomfort were already starting to take orders. The Lifeboat was getting packed with drinkers. 

“And you’ll lose a weekend if I don’t.” Flynn smiled at her as if he was going to say more, then turned and headed towards his truck. Only to walk behind it, presumably to get his tool kit.

Iris walked out of the food truck and sat on the ice chest full of bottled water and sodas for those who didn’t do beers but hung out with those who did. She looked a little bored but then Karl started playing card tricks with her. 

“That’s really good of Flynn,” Jiya as if it surprised her.

“Yeah.” Lucy only really interacted with Flynn during their trips to the dumpster. He usually kept to himself, in the truck. Which, granted, was where she was most of the time herself. 

Flynn then came back around and headed towards her, a big heavy toolbox in his hand. He dropped it down next to the gas tank and got to work. There were all sorts of random bits and parts scattered in the toolbox. This included some new and used valves which he started to compare to see which might fit.

“You just happened to have valves?” Lucy said and could have smacked herself for sounding rude again.

“I bought my truck used.” Flynn matched the right size valve. “I’ve had to fix her more times than I’d like to count.”

“Of course,” Lucy chastised herself. “Mine is new, I don’t see how this valve could have been damaged so quickly.”

“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully, eyeing it critically. Then he grabbed some more tools and got to work on replacing the valve without accidently releasing the gas or blowing the whole thing up.

Forty-five minutes later and Lucy had a working stove.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Lucy said as she stuck her head out the window. 

Flynn was standing outside, waiting to hear if his fix worked. “Don’t worry about it.”

“At least let me pay you for the valve,” she said quickly. They’d both already lost a chunk of business and they still had to finish cooking before they could open proper.

“It was just a spare,” he replied with a shrug. “I gotta get back.”

Flynn disappeared from view and Lucy almost ran out of the truck. He did a good thing, why not let her pay for the valve? Or something? It would have cost her a several hundred to get someone out there to do the same thing.

“Thank him later,” Amy said with a smirk as she appeared. “We got a few regulars waiting.”

“That man is so frustrating,” she tsked, but her sister was right. She turned to Jiya. “You ready to get working?”

“Yep, let’s do this.”

…

“I’ve had a look through the camera feed,” Lorena said as she handed Flynn a tablet. It was queued to the security footage that pointed at that corner of the yard where Lucy’s food truck was situated. “The gas tank is out of view, so if someone damaged it on purpose, they weren’t obvious about it.”

“Someone took something heavy to it,” he told her, absolutely positive.

“I believe you.” Lorena wouldn’t have said that if she didn’t. “But with so many people walking through that way to get to the dumpsters, or cut through the back, and not knowing exactly when it happened…”

“Yeah.” He grimaced. “Can’t prove it was Emma.”

“What makes you think it was Emma?” she asked as she took the tablet back from him.

“Call it a gut feeling.” It was the only proof he had. After the first weekend, it became painfully clear that Emma did not like Lucy, though he didn’t understand why. 

“Okay, well, I’ll keep that in mind.” Lorena got that thoughtful and determined look in her eye. “I won’t let this go, and I’ll talk to Mason about it as well. Healthy competition is good, but this is dangerous.”

They didn’t say it out loud, but there was a distinct possibility that the tank could have exploded if it was damaged just the wrong way. And since Iris was in the near vicinity of it, neither of them wanted to consider what might have happened. It was all the more reason to figure it out.

Lorena left, taking Iris with her as it was already past nine. Flynn debated how late he wanted to stay open. He wasn’t sure if he could sell all his food for the night. But if he shut down early, didn’t unpackage and prep the food he would have normally already torn into, then he could use it tomorrow and not have to worry about it being left over or wasted.

He decided he would stay open until he sold what was left of his already prepared food. That would take him out early, but sometimes that just how it was. He was open for only another hour and then he was done.

“Hello?” Lucy’s voice called from the stairs. “Can I come in?”

“Come in,” he called back.

Lucy walked up into the truck and immediately glanced around. Probably noting how he moved some of the overhead storage because he kept hitting his head on it. Not that he’d admit to that out loud.

As for her, she looked worn off her feet, carrying one of her bowls in her hand. “I saw you were closing up. You wouldn’t let me pay you for the valve, but I thought I could at least make you dinner.”

She held out the bowl which was full of some kind of chicken and rice pesto. It looked good, but, “This has peanut in it?”

“Yes, oh, are you allergic?” Lucy attempted to take it back.

He pulled it away so she couldn’t. “I’m not allergic. Iris is though, to peanuts only. She had a mild but significant reaction when she was younger. Doctor said it might not be a fatal allergy and she could grow out of it, but we don’t take chances. Not after…”

“That’s understandable, I’ll keep that in mind.” She seemed to take it seriously, which was good. Iris knew to always check, but she was still only a kid.

“Thank you, and thanks, for the dinner.” He held it up the bowl, then sat it down on the counter. “I’m almost finished, then I can let Karl go and sit down to eat. You know how it is.”

“Oh yeah.” She nodded and let out a tired breath. “Trying to catch up after the delay. I feel like the walking dead.”

“You’ve looked better, Lucy,” he said and then frowned at himself. Why did he say that?

Lucy just tilted her head and gave him a confused expression. Probably asking the same question. “Yes, well, you should look in a mirror.”

“I think we both need some rest,” he said politely. 

“Yeah,” she conceded. “I'll see you tomorrow then.”

She turned and let herself out. Flynn took care of the last of the close up. Paid Karl. Then he was ready to go home. He grabbed Lucy’s dish and exited the truck. She was closing up too. 

“Sup, man,” Rufus appeared out of nowhere with two open, unlabeled beers in his hand. “Heard you had a hell of a day.”

“Apparently everyone wants to feed me,” Flynn responded but gladly accepted one of the beers. “This a new recipe?”

“Yep.” Rufus took a swig of his. “I think it’s ready, but I need my resident Eastern European’s opinion on it.”

Flynn had a swig himself, swished it around a bit, then swallowed and licked his lips. “Aniseed?”

“Yep.” 

“I don’t think it will win over any non-aniseed fans, but it’s good.” He took another drink.

“Glowing review,” Rufus said dryly. He gestured for them to go sit at one of the tables in the yard. Flynn liked Rufus, even if he was a bit cocky. But then, what bright, young lad wasn’t? 

They sat down and Flynn finally got a chance to start eating the rice bowl. And it was good. The rice stuck together like it traditionally should making it easier to eat on the go. The chicken was seasoned nice and perfectly cooked through, but still juicy. And the pesto… that’s how you do bold flavor without heat.

He wasn’t afraid to say it, Lucy was a damn fine cook.

Speaking of, she was doing her final closing up and he wondered if he should go over and tell her. But she looked in a hurry and exhausted at the same time. She didn’t need him bothering her.

“Hey, Flynn, can I ask you a question?”

He turned his attention back to Rufus. “Sure.”

“Well, you see, I’ve been thinking about, maybe possibly, I dunno, asking Jiya out.” Rufus kept glancing to the side as if she might hear him, which was a bit impossible all things considered.

“Don’t you two do nothing but argue?” Flynn pointed out, finishing his beer.

“Yeah,” Rufus agreed, then frowned as if he hadn’t really considered that. “But, she’s just, so smart, you know? I… I want to make recipes with her.”

Flynn raised a single brow.

“That was not a euphemism.” Rufus rolled his eyes. “I honestly think she’d make an amazing Brew Engineer but… I also kinda want to kiss her beautiful face.”

“Then ask her out.” That was Flynn’s very sage advice.

“Yeah, but how,” Rufus said in earnest. “How did you ask Lorena out? Because that obviously worked.”

“Did it?” This came from Jessica, the seller for Southern Discomfort. The truck was still open as they had no hiccups that day, but it looked like Jess was on her break. She sat down next to Rufus putting three of the Lifeboat’s signature ale, The Mothership, on the table. “I mean, they are divorced.”

“Dude, that’s cold.” Rufus side glanced at her.

“Hey, I’m divorced too.” Jess took a beer and popped the top off with a small bottle opener. She then tossed the piece of metal on the table between the other two beers and started to chug down.

It was clear she had bought the beers for him and Rufus. It wouldn’t have been the first time a few of them had sat down and drank after a long night. Even Emma had joined them a few times. But then that was how Flynn realized that Emma was… determined. She knew what she wanted, and she’d get it any way possible. 

But, for as much as he was sure Emma was behind the broken valve, he couldn’t exactly figure out why. Lucy’s truck hadn’t been taking significant sales from them. The customer base was too different. But Flynn had gotten the distinct impression that Emma did not like Lucy on a personal level, at all, and that there was lot more to it.

Jess though… she was loyal to Emma, yes, but she adored Iris and wouldn’t do anything to put her, or anyone else, in danger like that. If Emma did sabotage Lucy, she didn’t get Jess to help her.

Flynn grabbed one of the beers and popped open the top. “Lorena asked me out, if you must know.”

“Really?” Rufus snapped back to him.

“Yeah.” Flynn took a drink and decided how much he was going to tell. Rufus had been with Mason for a long time, was practically family. And Jess, okay, he could admit, he liked her. She was a tough little Texan and he had a soft spot for Texans. “Like yourself, I couldn’t get the courage up to ask her. But you’ve met Lorena, she ain’t bashful.” He glanced at Jess. “We got divorced because of my PTSD. I wasn’t there for them, kept running into every war I could find. Cooking started as therapy and, well, here we are.”

“My ex was the same,” Jess said sadly, peeling at her label. “Only he brought all the fighting home. God, we would get into some yelling matches. Maybe I should shove his nose into a cookbook, maybe it would help him too.”

“Everyone’s different, but couldn’t hurt to try.” Flynn shrugged and took another drink.

“Well, you were happy once, right?” Rufus asked Jess. “You got married. How did he ask you out?”

“Junior year of High School, Homecoming dance,” she told him with a smile. “He put a note in my locker.”

Rufus shook his head. “I don’t know why I thought either of you would be helpful.”

Flynn glanced over to see Lucy, Amy, and Jiya, all heading out after locking up. He almost called them over to have a beer, but then something stuck in his throat. Lucy looked over at them and smiled. He smiled back and tipped his beer towards her.

Lucy then almost ran into Amy who had stopped. The two shared some words and headed out. They walked past Southern Discomfort, Emma watching them with that look in her eye again.

“Jess,” Flynn got her attention. “Do you know why your boss doesn’t like Lucy?” 

“Oh, that?” Jess nearly laughed. “It’s nothing personal.” Then she frowned. “Sorta.”

“As Mason would say,” Rufus said as he reached for the last beer and adopted a British accent, “how marvelously obtuse of you.”

“You know that Lucy is an heir to the Rittenhouse Restaurant Group, right?” Jess looked between them and realized that this was the first they were hearing of it. “Her great-grandfather was Nicholas Keynes. He put them the on the map by revamping their family’s old restaurant right before World War I. Then her grandmother, Ruth Keynes, became the richest woman in the U.S. at the time by opening more restaurants and expanding into bigger markets after World War II.”

Flynn knew about the Rittenhouse Restaurant Group. They actually owned more than one chain, franchised them out and made shit tons of money by being able to buy in ridiculous bulk from probably unethical sources. But they had the clout to keep it from ever affecting them even though they had a very low rating on all the ‘ethically sourced’ business rankings. It was a shame not enough people either looked at those rankings, or could afford to avoid those restaurants.

“Wait.” Rufus had his thinking face on. “Isn’t Rittenhouse now run by the Cahill family?”

“Yeah, some kind of hostile takeover in the late 60s,” Jess explained. “It was mostly sexism. The board would rather have a closeted gay man in charge instead of a woman. And I only say it that way because it was the 60s.”

Flynn and Rufus both made an ugh sound. Even today Rufus would often get treated like he was a staffer or waiter—and one memorable time as a valet—at brewery conventions despite being the Lead Brew Engineer for a premier brewery. He even had his face in the programs and everything. And as for Flynn, he would never deny his bisexuality, but he came to learn there were many times and places it was best not to volunteer that information.

“The juicy part.” Jess leaned forward a bit. “Ruth Keynes’ daughter, Carol, had a thing with Ethan Cahill’s son, Ben, and they are Lucy’s parents. Amy is her half-sister. It’s apparently an open secret in Rittenhouse.”

Rufus just shook his head. “White people.”

“Just how do you know all this?” Flynn asked.

“Emma.” Jess shrugged. “Apparently, she tried to get into Rittenhouse’s food science department, you know, the people who decide what new recipes and stuff to introduce. Despite having graduated from the Culinary Institute of America with top marks and worked in some swanky places here in California, she was told she didn’t have enough experience for even entry level.” Jess let out an annoyed grunt. “They accepted a guy who got kicked out of his last two restaurants, but he could say he went to Le Cordon Bleu. And his father was a two-time James Beard award winner. It’s all about status with those people.”

Rufus made a face. “Their burgers have, like, four ingredients on them.”

“I know, right?”

Flynn could understand why Emma was pissed off at Rittenhouse. They were full of rich people who could probably end world hunger, but didn’t. But why would she take it out on Lucy? She was running a food truck at a brew pub. Lucy didn’t act like this was just some trendy, niche thing. Nor did it feel like attention getting. No, Lucy was doing it because she loved to cook, but didn’t want to cook for her family because they were jerks.

“Jess!” Emma shouted and Jess sighed.

“Gotta get back to work.” She downed the rest of her beer quickly then left the table.

Rufus rubbed his face. “Man, what am I gonna do about Jiya?” 

“Well, if you’re not going to ask her out, you could stop arguing with her at least,” Flynn suggested.

“Yeah… that would probably help.” Rufus agreed. “But I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so smart, you know? Someone who can keep up, even best me. I don’t want to argue, not really, I just really enjoy having someone who gets it, even if they don’t agree.”

“Then find something you agree on.” Flynn swished what was left of his beer around in the bottom of the bottle. “Because if you can’t, then no matter how smart or beautiful she is, if you can’t find common ground, no relationship will ever work.”

“That’s… smart.” 

“I have my moments.”


	3. As Seen On TV

**As Seen On TV**

Lucy was starting to run into a little string of bad luck. First it was the valve, then it was a surprise food inspection. She passed, of course, but it just seemed odd considering they typically didn’t get surprise ones, just the standard, according to Flynn and Denise. Then her food order somehow got cancelled which left her running around to three stores to find everything she needed, and without the discounts she normally got for preordering in bulk.

And, of course, the flat tire. 

“Did you have this many problems?” she asked Flynn as he helped to change it. 

“Yeah,” he gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Like I said, the truck was used.”

“Right.” Lucy frowned. “But what about your food orders and stuff? It almost feels like the universe is starting to work against me.”

She almost suspected her mother, but Carol was not one to be subtle. No, if she cancelled Lucy’s food order then she would’ve been waiting at the store, arms crossed, ready to go off about how Lucy was wasting her time.

“Does seem that way, yeah,” he agreed, working on putting the lug nuts on the wheel. 

Flynn had taken off his usual button up and was just in a white tank, now smudged in grease. His arm muscles bulged with the work of twisting the tire iron to tighten the nuts. Lucy momentarily forgot what they were talking about.

“At least you get the weekend off,” he pointed out, tightening the last lug nut. 

“True,” she said with a none-to-subtle sigh of relief. 

Lorena and Mason had worked out a deal with Tyler Florence of _The Great Food Truck Race_ , a contest show were food truck owners, or owner hopefuls, would travel from city to city to sell their signature dishes. There was, of course, challenges that could give trucks immunity or an advantage. It usually involved either creating the best tasting dish of Tyler’s choosing, or selling the most dishes made of a whammy ingredient.

Months ago, Lucy had caught one of the episodes on the Food Network and it reminded her that food trucks were a thing and maybe she could look into it. Her claustrophobia almost ruined it, but if this was her only option, well, if Lucy was anything, she was determined. Especially when backed into a corner.

Now the show was filming their current season and were down to four teams. Mason paid all his trucks a tidy sum to clear out for the weekend. Their spots were going to be used as part of the next episode.

Emma chose to use the opportunity to go to a festival to make extra profits. Denise and Michelle took their kids on a vacation out of town because they could. It was conveniently close to finals, so Lucy decided to just close up shop for the week to let Jiya and Amy do their thing. She wasn’t sure what Flynn was up to. He had already moved his truck when he came back and saw Lucy was having issues with hers.

“You planning on selling this weekend?” Lucy ask him as he finished up.

“Nah,” he said simply as he worked on lowering the jack. “It’s nice to take a break. Thought I’d hang out here, watch the show. Lorena said it would be okay, she’d vouch for me, so long as I didn’t disrupt production.”

The truck safely on the ground, Flynn pulled the jack out from underneath and stood up. He was sweaty, and greasy, his hair starting to get down into his eyes. Lucy always knew he was a handsome man, but this was ridiculous and possibly criminal.

“Do you want to?” he asked her.

Lucy had zoned out and hadn’t heard the question. “Do what?”

“Stick around and watch the show,” he apparently repeated. “I’m sure Lorena will vouch for you too.”

“Um, yeah, that sounds great.” Lucy smiled. “Always wanted to know how those things worked.”

“Alright, be here tomorrow then.” 

“Will do.”

The next day, Lucy found that Lorena had her down as staff and she got to sit off to the side with the rest of them. It was a strategic location that wouldn’t be seen on any of the camera angles. Iris was there too, even though it was a Friday. They got her out of classes because it’s not often one gets to watch a show like this get made. She was sitting on the other side of Flynn.

“Missed anything good?” Lucy asked as she sat down next to them.

“A lot of set up,” he told her. “They just filmed everyone arriving. Now they are going to do the challenge.”

There was a lot more boring downtime than Lucy realized, but once things started going, it was really fun to watch. Tyler came out with Mason and announced the challenge. The winner would get an extra three hundred dollars in their till come the end of the two selling days. They had to make a dish using a classic pub food: the pretzel mix. And it had to pair well with the Lifeboat’s signature ale, The Mothership.

They were given half an hour and rushed back to their trucks.

Lucy was already thinking about what she would make. “I’d use the pretzels as a salt and crunch component.”

Flynn glanced at her after letting Iris run off back to Lorena so she could meet Tyler while they waited. “Defiantly a crust on something, like a meatball or hushpuppy.”

“That’s a good idea,” she agreed. “Ever thought about doing one of these shows?”

“No,” he laughed. “Sitting here chatting about it is a lot different than actually being in the thick of it with a clock running down and money on the line.”

“That’s true.” She had to give him that one.

“Besides, you have to have a three-person team.” Flynn glanced back at his daughter who was the center of attention now. “And Iris is too young to play.”

“I’m sure you could find someone,” she told him a bit softer than she meant. 

He looked back at Lucy, licking his lips as he thought about it. “Yeah, I suppose I could. We’d have to make quite the team though.”

“Yeah...”

The half hour was over in a flash, the four teams coming out with their dishes. They mostly all had the same idea. Tyler and Mason then ate the food so they could judge, along with a little help from the producer. Once the winning team was announced, it was now up to the teams go shopping and get ready for the crowd tonight. Tyler reminding them that whoever makes the most money, goes on to the next city where they would determine the finalists. 

“Do you want to come back later and sample the food?” Lucy asked him.

“Already planning on it.” When he smiled it made Lucy’s stomach do weird things she wasn’t willing to address at the moment. “I need to go, grab Iris. I’ll see you later though?”

“Seeya then.” She watched Flynn walk away, ignoring the fact that knowing they would be hanging out together made her smile.

…

Word had gotten out about the show being there and so the Lifeboat was packed with people. That had pretty much been the idea behind why Lorena and Mason did the gig. But it also meant he was thankful that he was tall, it made it easier to find Lucy and her find him.

“This is insane,” Lucy chuckled nervously. The normal security was tripled and they were regulating how many people were coming in, like a night club. Thankfully, Lucy was still on the VIP list. Flynn didn’t have to worry about getting in, he never technically left. “So, what’s the plan?”

“I thought we might try them all?” he said with a shrug. “That way it’s fair.”

“Good idea.” She scanned the trucks and pointed at the one in Indian Soul’s usual location. “Let’s try that one first, the line is shorter.”

The cameras were wandering around, getting B-roll and some customer reactions. Lucy and Flynn skillfully avoided them. Lucy didn’t say why she wasn’t too keen on ending up on television. Flynn gathered it had something to do with her being a Rittenhouse heiress. But she hadn’t volunteered the information, so he wasn’t going to press.

They stood off to the side eating meatball sliders from the first truck. 

“This is really good,” Lucy said as she savored a bite, trying to get the whole flavor profile. “What's giving it that kick?”

“Smoked paprika.” He’d know the spice in his sleep. 

“I do believe you’re right,” she agreed. “They could do with a more viscous sauce though. This is far too runny.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” he said and pointed at his shirt. He was wearing a burgundy turtleneck and a dark spot had formed where some of the sauce had dripped. “You think as a cook I’d know better.”

Lucy covered her mouth and chuckled. 

“Hey,” Rufus said as he walked up, Jiya beside him. “Enjoying the circus?”

“I’m just glad I’m not working it,” Lucy said with relief.

“Same,” Jiya agreed way to easily. 

“Oh, how did finals go?” Lucy asked.

Jiya glanced at Rufus and then back to Lucy. “Short answer, good. Long answer, we promised not to discuss anything regarding chemistry today, so I’ll give you details later.”

“Um… okay?”

“Thought we’d go a day without arguing,” Rufus explained. “See what happens.”

Flynn smirked at him, knowing exactly where this came from, but he was keeping his mouth shut. Rufus saw the smirk though and gave him the ‘don’t say it’ eye-glare.

“We were about to grab some beers,” Jiya said, oblivious to the exchange, maybe, she was a perceptive and crafty woman. Flynn liked her and thought she’d be good for Rufus if they could get past their dueling sciences thing. “Then we were going to check out the creole truck. Wanna come with? Rufus doesn’t have to wait in line at the bar.”

“I don’t even have to pay,” Rufus pointed out.

They finished their food and followed Jiya and Rufus into the Lifeboat. It was very crowded, extra bartenders on duty. Everything seemed to be flowing smoothly though. They saw Lorena directing the chaos, making sure supplies was being restocked, etc. She smiled and waved at them as Rufus went behind the bar and grabbed some cold ones.

“Hey,” some random guy said when he saw Rufus walk behind the bar. “You shouldn’t be back there.”

“I work here,” Rufus told him.

“Then why aren’t you working?” the man replied back smarmily, waving his almost empty mug at him as if he should get him a refill.

“He’s the Brew Engineer,” Jiya got into the man’s face. “Show some respect. He invented that beer you’re drinking.”

The man was probably twice Jiya’s size and Flynn was ready to step in, but it turned out he didn’t need to. When the guy tried to grab Jiya, she snatched his wrist first, twisting it until he had to either move with the motion, or break his arm. She had him bent over his barstool, calling for mercy. All Flynn had to do was grab the mug from his other hand before he spilt beer everywhere. 

Flynn glanced over at Lucy who was as equally surprised and impressed with her sous chef. Then he gestured to Lorena who was already calling security over. They escorted the man out without issue after that.

“Uh, that was…” Rufus was completely speechless as he handed a beer to her. 

“I know.” Jiya smiled at him, then took him by the arm. “I really want some creole. I think I saw jambalaya on their menu.”

They walked over to the creole truck and the lines had gotten even longer. The trucks were going to do great business today, but he wondered how they would fair tomorrow. How many of these people were likely to return? And how many more was there around town who would be interested? He supposed that was all part of the game.

All the tables, even the extra ones, were full up but that was the good thing about food truck food. You could easily stand and eat it, even if it was a soup. Rufus and Jiya chatted about all manner of geeky things that went way over Flynn and Lucy’s head. But that was okay, because they found themselves chatting about the food, trying to guess the ingredients and cooking techniques. 

It was… really nice. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t talked shop with others. He had spent many an hour with Denise and Michelle when he first started out. He talked about it with Lorena when he decided he wanted to start his own food truck, and then when she built the courtyard so that he could see their daughter every day. 

He did something right, falling in love with that woman. Did he regret destroying their marriage via neglect? Always. But splitting up had been the right thing to do. And Iris was happy, that was really all that mattered.

When it came to Lucy though, there was a passion in her that he couldn’t help but appreciate, even be drawn to. If what Jessica said was true, about Lucy’s family, then it must have weighed heavy on her, every time she cooked. But she kept at it, loving every exhausting moment of it.

“Hey, we’re heading out,” Jiya told them. “We’re going to see a movie.”

“Have fun!” Lucy hugged her friend.

Flynn simply winked at Rufus and gave him a thumbs up when the women weren’t looking. Rufus rolled his eyes and shook his head, but Flynn could tell the man was happy with how things were turning out between him and Jiya. For tonight, at least.

“Okay, two more trucks,” Lucy said once they left. 

The lines were still steady and it was starting to get on into the evening. The trucks had to close down at a specific time, eight o’clock, he thought. He and Lucy might not have time to get to the fourth one. He looked at Lucy and read the same concern on her face. “Divide and concur? We take separate trucks, get two orders?”

“Great idea.”

They did just that, getting into line. Lucy went through faster, so she stood off to the side and waited on him. Ten minutes later, they both had their dishes, their hands full.

“There’s still no place to sit,” Lucy said, eyes scanning the busy courtyard.

Flynn hesitated, but then his mouth often didn’t listen to his brain. “I know a place we can sit. Quiet too.”

“Oh?” Lucy seemed to appreciate the ‘quiet’ part of his statement. “Lead the way.”

He led her past the spot where his truck usually sat, onto the path that would take them to the dumpsters. But he didn’t want to go that far. Instead, he walked to the door of the luxury RV which sat behind a privacy wall.

“Wait, this is yours?” Lucy said, and it surprised him.

“I thought you knew?” He thought everyone knew. “It’s cheaper than the apartments around here, and it makes the commute pretty easy.”

Lucy frowned. “So, not only did your ex-wife build you a place to put your food truck at her new boyfriend’s business, but also arranged a space for you to live there?”

He frowned at her just as equally. “Just because we broke up doesn’t mean we have to be hostile to each other.”

“Right, of course.” Lucy shook her head. “That came out rude again. It’s just… pretty amazing that you guys can still be friends like that. It would a much better world if we were able to treat most of our relationships, past and present, with such thought.”

“Yeah, it would,” he agreed. He’d seen to many people turn ugly under similar circumstances. Not to mention he’s had to pull people off each other a few times over the years. Couples would get into domestic disputes out in the courtyard before security could get to them.

Flynn then realized he had to get his key out and it was in his pocket. “Can you hold this one for a moment?”

He handed over one of the dishes and she held it deftly in the crook of her arm. But as he dug into his pocket, he suddenly realized the scope of the situation. He was inviting her into his home, which was clean, no embarrassing underwear laying around, but still his _home_.

“Um, we can find someplace else,” he offered as he pulled his key out. “If you don’t feel comfortable going inside.”

Lucy blinked as if the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. “I’m fine, unless you’re not comfortable?”

“As long as you’re sure, with your claustrophobia,” he added, realizing there may be another reason this could be a terrible mistake.

“This RV is bigger than my food truck,” she pointed out. “And it’s not moving. But I’ll let you know if there’s a problem.”

“Okay,” he accepted her words, then unlocked the door.

He picked out a luxury RV because they were wider and taller than a standard one. Which would probably make it hell to take on actual road trips, but it rarely left the place it was parked. Inside it had a sitting area in the front, small kitchen and bathroom in the middle, and the bedroom in the back. Of course, everything is relative when it comes to size and you’re six foot four.

“Holy shit,” Lucy said as she looked down the expanse. “This is nicer than my first apartment… and my second. Hell, if this has a bathtub it'd be nicer than the one I currently share with Amy.”

Flynn chuckled, taking the food from her and sitting it on the peninsula that jutted out from the wall. “No tub, unfortunately, but a shower large enough for me.”

He’d picked out a décor that was rich in Earth tones, something that would remind him of his homeland. But it was well enough lit that it didn’t feel dark or claustrophobic, hopefully. 

“Have a seat,” he gestured to the long sofa that lined the wall. 

Then he opened his fridge and pulled out some beers. He tipped one towards her to see if that’s what she wanted. He had water and some fruit soda he kept for Iris. Lucy nodded that she wanted the beer. He popped the tops off and handed one to her, along with one of the dishes. There was a big chair on the other side of the RV, next to the kitchen counter, which basically sold the RV to him with how perfectly sized it was.

They dug into the food and thankfully both were cold dishes. They didn’t have to worry about reheating. A few words passed between them. Not even full sentences but they understood what each other were asking, or commenting on.

“This is really nice,” Lucy said as they swapped to the last dish.

“You haven’t tried it yet,” he replied as he sat back down.

“No, I mean,” she gestured around with her fork, and between them, “this. Just sitting here, enjoying food, no pressures on us.”

“I know the feeling.” He smiled, then took a bite to avoid smiling too much. He hadn’t felt this relaxed, and at peace, with someone in a long time.

“Do you also know my great-grandfather was Nicholas Keynes?” she said as if she didn’t know why she was saying it.

“I’ve heard a few things.” There was no point in denying the truth.

“Everyone thinks of him as this genius food savant who died young.” She let out a sarcastic huff. “That my grandmother was a brilliant businesswoman who changed the face of franchised restaurants, and that’s a _good_ thing.” She was involuntarily shaking her head. “When the truth is, Nicholas stole most of his recipes, and our restaurants are an epidemic on the health of our society. Everyone knows it too, but it’s like nobody cares… or can’t afford to.”

Flynn didn’t interrupt her. She was in pain and needed to get it out. He wondered if there was anyone else in her life she could talk about this with, other than Amy and Jiya. 

“I’m sorry.” Lucy gave him an apologetic look. “That little venting came out of nowhere.”

“Not nowhere,” he replied softly. “And if there is anything I’ve learned over the years, when things aren’t comfortable where they are, they have to move.”

“That’s a… a good way to look at it.”

There was a little moment of quiet, Lucy clearly having more to say but now wary of letting the flood gates open. So he said, “Another beer?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

After he got them both a fresh beer, he sat down and gave her a simple smile. “If you want to talk about family legacy… my mother was a genius. She was an engineer for Lockman.” 

“Wow,” she said with awe. 

“Yeah.” He licked his lips and thought back to when he was younger. “My mom never pushed me, didn’t expect me to be anything other than who I was, but everyone else… they somehow thought genius was genetic.”

“Maybe it is?” Lucy said with a smile. “You’re a genius with food, I already told you that.”

Flynn remembered back to that first official meeting. After how poorly it went, he was almost in awe that they had somehow came to be at this point. “Well, you’re not bad yourself. Didn’t even have to steal your recipes.”

“No, no I did not,” Lucy said with relief.

“How did you come up with that pesto recipe?” he asked her. “The flavor profile is good, but it has this unexpected zip to it that makes it even better.”

“Ah, yes… that was actually an accident.” Lucy laughed at herself. “Try cooking for a dozen people in a kitchen smaller than that.” She pointed at the small kitchen that only had the bare necessities. He didn’t even use it that much, mostly cooking out of his food truck.

“Oh… this… I have to hear.”

…

Lucy had a bit of a headache. It wasn’t terrible, she had worse, but it was definitely there and wasn’t going to go away with wishful thinking. That was her first thought when she started to break consciousness. Her second thought was how uncomfortable she was after having gone to sleep still wearing her bra. And wait, this wasn’t her bed.

“Oh, god,” Lucy said as she sat up quickly, the blanket which had been tucked around her almost falling onto the floor of the RV. 

Flynn was standing at the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee. She checked her phone and saw that it was almost eight in the morning.

“I’m sorry, for falling asleep on you,” she said as Flynn handed her the cup.

“No problem,” he said as he sat down, now changed into a t-shirt and jeans. “You were a gentle and responsive lover.”

“I wasn’t that drunk,” she immediately said. She would have known if anything like _that_ had happened. 

“Apologies,” he said like he knew he had put his foot in his mouth again.

“Well, you make good coffee, so I’ll forgive you.” Lucy took another sip and let herself wake up. Once she had a bit more clarity, she said, “And thank you, for letting me vent last night.”

“We all need to,” he said knowingly. “I’m glad you could trust me.”

“You… you’re the easiest person to talk to.” Lucy couldn’t have stopped the truth from coming out if she tried. “Even my sister… I love her… but…”

“She’s too close to it,” Flynn finished for her.

Lucy nodded that he pretty much hit the nail on the head. “Thank you. For understanding.” 

He simply smiled at her, something soft, a complete dichotomy to his usual gruff demeanor. 

“And thank you for the coffee,” she said, trying to ignore his early morning softness. “I should get home, before Amy sends out the cavalry to find me.”

“That’s probably wise,” he agreed, standing up and taking her mug from her so he could put it in the sink.

Lucy stood and straightened her clothes which had become slightly disheveled as she slept. Her hair needed a good comb through as well. 

“Are you coming back?” Flynn asked after he rinsed the mug. “To see the second day of filming?”

“I was thinking about it,” she answered honestly, heading towards the door.

“Okay, well, maybe I’ll see you later today then…”

“Yeah.” Lucy wasn’t sure what she was hearing in his voice and decided she was imagining pretty much all of it. With a slightly nervous laugh, she opened the door, which swung outwards, and nearly hit someone.

“Lucy!” a small voice yelled at her.

“Sorry!” Lucy apologized for almost hitting Iris, who was standing right there in front of the RV, with Lorena behind her.

The older woman took in Lucy’s wrinkled, day-old clothing, tilted her head just slightly, and came to her own conclusions. Lorena’s face was somewhere between a smirk and pensive.

“Did you come to watch the show with _tata_ , again?” Iris asked, completely oblivious. 

“Ah, yes, I did,” Lucy quickly answered, stepping down out of the RV. “But I forgot something so, I’m just… gonna go. I will see you all later.”

“Okay, bye!”

“Bye!” Lucy called back nervously and then started walking away as swiftly as she could.

…

Flynn should have said something, but he was just as rooted in uncertainty as Lucy had been. He didn’t know that his family would be coming over so early. But they did, and he knew how it looked, well, to Lorena at least. Iris was still too young to consider what it would mean for Lucy to be exiting his home wearing the same clothes from yesterday.

He walked back to the brewery proper with them, avoiding looking at Lorena until he had a moment to speak to her alone. When that moment came by way of Iris seeing Rufus and running over to say hi, Lorena beat him too it.

“The business manager in me doesn’t like this because drama is not good for business,” she told him point blank. “But as your ex-wife, I just want to remind you that you are still helping me come time for the sex talk and I think we both want to put that off a little bit longer.”

“Lorena!” Flynn blanched.

“But as your friend,” she said with a soft smile, “I am happy for you. You’ve been alone for too long.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Flynn stumbled out. “It was so crowded last night, we sat in the RV, talked, it got late, and she fell asleep. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Lorena raised a brow in a move that he couldn’t quite interpret.

“Yes.” He didn’t know how else he could answer.

“Garcia,” she said his name as if she was talking to their daughter, trying to explain basic manners. “Women don’t fall asleep in strange places like a man’s RV unless they feel safe.”

“Lucy’s my friend.” Flynn couldn’t quite figure out why that hurt him so much to say. Or maybe he just wouldn’t let himself consider the reason. “Of course she can feel safe around me. It’s just, not like that.”

“It could be if you asked her out on a real date,” Lorena suggested.

Flynn nearly choked. “Lucy doesn’t think of me like that.”

“If you say so,” she replied with a shrug, but there was small upturn of her lip.

“I know that look,” he said as he pointed his finger at her. 

She went all innocent. “What look?”

“I know that one too.” Flynn was having none of it. “Leave your puck-ish side out of this. Lucy and I are just friends, that’s it.”

Lorena let out a long huff of breath. “Fine. But don’t you forget that I know you just as well.”

“And?” he prompted her after she didn't elaborate.

This time, Lorena sighed, moving forward and giving him a hug. He wrapped his arms gently around her. While the longing between them had long since vanished, the comfort was still there. He hadn’t realized until that moment how much he needed comforting. To occasionally be reminded that he doesn’t have to keep running away. 

Despite all the war he’s been in, he’s allowed to have peace.

“Sometimes I can be a fool,” he admitted softly.

“I’d say so,” Mason said as he came up beside them from the offices. “Only a fool would let Lorena go, but then I’m delightfully pleased that you did.”

Lorena chuckled against Flynn’s chest, then pulled back, looking at Mason. “Did you just politely say one man’s trash is another man’s treasure?”

“Yes,” Mason spoke without hesitation. “But I said it in a British accent so it’s okay.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Lorena laughed, moving to give him a light kiss. “You got everything?”

“Tyler will be here shortly,” Mason replied. 

The two headed off to do whatever they needed to do for the show. Iris was busy with Rufus so he didn’t have to worry about her for the moment. He was left to stand there with his thoughts. 

Did he like Lucy? Yes. 

Did he like her in the way Lorena was suggesting? …

Didn’t matter. Lucy had a bright future in front of her. She’d outgrow this place quickly and have a successful career, he was sure of it. The last thing she needed was a broken soldier weighing her down. And he couldn’t leave Iris, he was staying close until his little girl was grown up and off conquering the world herself.

That’s just how it was…

…

“I, ah, hope I didn’t cause any awkwardness,” Lucy told Flynn when she came back, freshly showered and in new clothes.

“I explained what happened,” he told her but didn’t exactly smile when he did. “Cleared up any misconceptions.”

“Okay, good.” Lucy knew she had a ‘no cause termination’ provision in her contract. It basically meant that at any point, for any reason, Mason or Lorena could tell her to pack up and go. It wasn’t that Lucy thought that either of them would do so over a perceived indiscretion with Flynn, but after the luck she’d been having…

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching as camera crews set up. 

“I did enjoy hanging out with you, though,” Lucy said and then immediately regretted her decision to open her mouth. She just got him in trouble with his ex-wife, the mother of his daughter whom he loved more than anything in all time itself. 

Flynn licked his lips and he thought a moment. “I did too. Like you said, you’re easy to talk to. Probably because we’re both geniuses.”

Lucy let out a burst of laughter, then covered her mouth before she drew too much attention. 

Things were starting to move quickly around them. So they sat quietly and watched as tv magic was made. And when Lucy glanced over at him, he had found his smile again. She didn’t want to think about how that made her feel. 

Did she like Flynn? Yeah, a lot. Somehow, somewhere along the line, he had become her friend.

Noah had been her friend too, and she screwed all that up by letting it get romantic. 

No, she wasn’t going to go through that again. Bad luck aside, she was finally getting her life together. Her truck was breaking even which, in the restaurant business, is a pretty damn big milestone. 

Flynn was her friend and she didn’t want to lose him. 

She couldn’t.


	4. Triggered

**Triggered**

Lucy got her truck back in her spot. She’d left it on the street outside her apartment over the previous weekend. As much as she did enjoy having the time off, and spending a lot of it with Flynn, she needed to get back to work, back in the kitchen.

She needed to create.

After about forty-five minutes of cooking, Lucy finished up a batch of spiced chicken, crunchy slaw, and a crema. She dished two portions into some bowls, stuck in a fork, and went outside. 

It was early, the Lifeboat wasn’t actually open for customers yet. Lucy would have to start her prep soon, when Jiya got there, but for the moment, she could socialize. Flynn was standing outside his truck talking to Lorena, Mason, and Rufus. Iris was running around, being a kid who was happy to have the day off for whatever reason school was closed.

Flynn gestured to Karl who had just showed up, then he spotted her and smiled. 

Clearing her throat, she walked up to him and held out a boat. 

“What’s this?” he asked as he accepted it.

“New recipe,” she told him with a proud grin, handing the other one to Lorena or Mason, whichever wanted to try. “I need thoughts, and hopefully praise.”

Flynn chuckled and took a bite, savoring it for a second as he took in the flavors and textures. Lorena and Mason also took bites out of theirs. Rufus claimed he was feeling left out and snatched a piece of chicken out of Flynn’s boat, dipping it in the crema before popping it in his mouth.

So far everyone was generally agreeable that it was good.

“The flavors complement each other really well,” Flynn told her and this made her far happier than it had any right to. “There is a hint of something there though that doesn’t seem to belong, but I can’t quite place it.”

“All tastes good to me,” Rufus said as he stole another piece of chicken.

“It is really good.” Lorena said, covering her mouth as she finished chewing. “Great texture play with the crunchy slaw.”

“Maybe serve it with a bit more crema,” Mason offered. “But otherwise, yes, smashing.”

Iris appeared beside her father. “I wanna try!”

Flynn almost said sure but then looked at Lucy. She knew exactly what he was going to say and beat him too it. “I removed nuts from my menu a couple weeks ago. I decided it was better to be allergy free.”

Nodding his thanks, he held the bowl down low so Iris could grab the fork, swirl around some chicken and slaw, and take a bite only a kid could. She said something agreeable through her chewing, making the rest of them laugh.

“So, Lucy, when will this be making its debut?” Lorena asked.

“Next week,” Lucy answered, not really taking note of Iris coughing, probably just tried to eat too much at once. “I don’t have enough supplies to make more than a few more portions.”

Iris continued to cough, hard.

“Iris,” Flynn shouted with alarm as she started to collapse. 

Lorena rushed forward, pushing Lucy and Rufus out of her way to get to her daughter. 

“Pen,” Flynn nearly barked as he lifted Iris into his arms.

Lorena was already moving toward the Amerhana, to the nearest place they stored an EpiPen. Karl was coming down the steps, pen in hand. Like a baton relay, Lorena snatched it from him and turned on a dime, rushing back to Flynn and Iris.

Flynn laid his daughter down on one of the tables. He made sure she didn’t have food lodged in her throat and that she was still breathing, as hard as it had become. 

With trembling hands, Lorena passed the EpiPen to Flynn who, despite the fear and horror roiling inside of him, had the outward calmness of a trained soldier. He took the pen, pulled off the blue safety piece, then paused only slightly to make sure he did it right. Then he jabbed the pen into Iris’ thigh. After a few seconds, he pulled it back out and Lorena began to rub and massage the area as he watched Iris’ face for signs of the medicine working.

Iris’ breathing became easier, the reaction had been staved off, and Flynn mumbled out something in Croatian. It sounded suspiciously like a prayer.

“Ambulance is on their way,” Mason said, phone still to his ear.

Lorena nodded her thanks, then ran her hand through her daughter’s hair and kissed her forehead.

Everything happened so fast, maybe only a minute or two passed. Lucy had stood helpless, unsure of what she could do to help. But also struck in place by fear.

Flynn looked at Lucy, then down at the dropped boat of food. He glanced back at her, question and uncertainty in his eyes. Lucy shook her head, she knows she didn’t put nuts in the dish. She cleaned everything thoroughly in her truck, and what couldn’t be sanitized of peanut residue was thrown away and replaced. 

She didn’t do this, she didn’t almost kill Flynn’s daughter… did she?

…

Flynn was at the hospital, Iris about to be discharged. She came through the attack okay, there would be no physical repercussions. But she was shaken and fearful.

And Flynn blamed himself.

He gave Iris the food, even knowing there was something in it he couldn’t place. A very light touch of peanut oil, but that’s all it took. He should have questioned it closer, but he trusted Lucy.

Trusted her with his child.

“Garcia,” Lorena called him out into the hall.

The doctor and nurse were doing their thing, he could spare a moment. “Yeah?”

“Connor called.” Lorena had her phone in her hand, practically strangling it. “They found a fine layer of peanut oil on Lucy’s plastic cutlery.”

“What?” That wasn’t at all what he was expecting. “How did it get there?”

“Don’t know yet.” Lorena was shaking her head. “Lucy said that when she cleaned her truck, she emptied out the cutlery tray, cleaned it along with the rest of the truck, and threw away any leftover cutlery. She put a fresh batch from a new box in the tray two weeks ago, and didn’t touch it at all last week while the show was here.”

“And a fine even layer, right?” Flynn’s mind was going a mile a minute. “You don’t get that from just working with peanuts. Sounds more like someone sprayed it. Lucy wouldn’t be that careless.”

Lorena let out a shrug. “But why do it at all?” 

It suddenly became very clear to Flynn. “To make Lucy look bad. Maybe even get her kicked out of the Lifeboat.”

She frowned, thinking about the logistics of that kind of plan. “How could someone even know Iris would get ahold of the food?” 

“Didn’t have to be Iris, anyone with an allergy would do,” he explained as everything unrolled in his head. “The oil would spread across the cutlery and nearby area, that’s why you have to put allergy warnings even if you don’t use them in every dish. But by the time someone allergic took a bite, it wouldn’t be so obvious where it came from in her truck. We wouldn’t know if started on the forks or end up there.”

“Yeah, that would make Lucy look bad,” Lorena agreed, thinking. “Hurt her reputation at the least.”

It was a dastardly plan, and he had an idea of who would have done it. “Emma got into Lucy’s truck over the weekend. When she had it parked off-site.”

“Emma?” Lorena’s face turned pensive. “I could never prove the gas tank was her doing.”

The nurse stuck her head out the door. “We’re ready to release her.”

“Thank you,” Lorena said and moved towards the door. 

As for Flynn... all he could see was red.

…

Lucy was sitting in the pub office, rubbing her temples. She’d just spent hours with Mason and Rufus trying to figure out what went wrong. How could the peanut oil have gotten there? She... she wouldn’t make a mistake like that.

Her phone started to ring and the caller ID said it was Lorena. Lucy took a very deep breath, afraid to face the woman after… 

“Hello?” Lucy said quietly when she answered.

“Are you still at the Lifeboat?” Lorena asked in a rush.

“Uh, yes, in the office.” She had been there since Mason and Rufus left to go check on the tanks, which they were supposed to do hours ago. Amy was there, but she went to go get them some food from Indian Soul seeing as Lucy hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“Can you see if Garcia is home?” There was definitely a measure of urgency in her voice. “If he is, tell him to answer his damn phone.”

“Sure.” Lucy could hear the noises of the hospital in the background. Why wouldn’t Flynn be there with his daughter? “What’s wrong?”

There was a pause, then Lorena said more quietly, “Garcia believes Emma is responsible for the peanut oil ending up in your truck. And for your damaged gas tank a few months ago.”

“Emma?” Lucy had barely said two words to the woman since that first day.

“There’s no proof that she damaged the tank,” Lorena continued, “but Garcia’s hunches are rarely wrong. But that was the only thing we had to go on. When nothing else happened, I thought it was maybe a one-off haze against the new girl.”

“Not a one-off.” Lucy started to think about all the bad luck she had run into. “Just smaller things, like my cancelled food order.”

“I... I’m sorry Lucy,” Lorena sounded like she truly meant it. “I should have acted sooner.”

“No, no,” Lucy assured her. “Why would you think Emma could do such a thing? Put people’s lives in danger like that?”

“I feel like I should have.” The sound of Lorena mentally kicking herself was obvious over the phone. Then Iris could be heard in the background. “I have to get Iris home, just, tell Garcia to call me, please. He left the hospital angry and I don’t want him to do anything stupid.”

“I’ll go check his RV right now,” Lucy promised. 

“Thank you.”

…

War is hell.

He thought he finally left it behind. After it cost him his father, his marriage... he finally found a place in this world. And then someone came along and tried to take his daughter. Acceptable collateral damage... for what? Some petty beef against Lucy’s family? 

Flynn paced his RV like a caged animal, every muscle coiled tightly. 

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew what was really happening. His trauma, all the years fighting, the instincts he had to hone, had come crashing down onto him. It was like his thoughts were not his own, at least not the rational part of himself, or the reasonable side, or even the bullheaded snarky side.

No, his friend was _attacked_ and his daughter was caught in the crossfire, and if anything were to happen to his little girl… he would burn down the world.

Even as he told himself it was a bad idea, his body moved to the closet in the bedroom. High up on a shelf was a thumb locked box. He hadn’t been in it for several months, the last time was when he checked to make sure the object inside wasn’t rusting or had disappeared despite the lock.

Flynn picked up the .45 caliber Remington 1911 handgun, slipping out the mag and checking the chamber. The gun cleared, he slid the mag back in but didn’t chamber a bullet. His anger didn’t negate his safety training. 

It was everything else going through his mind that was reckless

The sun was now down, it was late into the evening. If he could get Emma away from her truck, down one of the side alleys, without anyone noticing? Oh, hell, who cared if anyone saw. The woman had to pay for what she did, what almost happened. Logic wasn’t something he wanted to listen to right now, even if it was screaming at him, along with his sense.

He opened the door to his RV and quickly stepped down to the ground. 

“Flynn?” Lucy was standing at the end of the little walkway between the RV and privacy wall. “Lorena called, she’s worried… about… you.”

It was too late, she saw the gun before he hid it behind his back.

“Don’t do this, Flynn,” Lucy said sternly but there was definitely a plea in her voice.

“Do what?” he played off, eyeing his way to get around her.

“Don’t go after Emma,” she was trying not to raise her voice because then others might hear. Sure, their trucks sat closed, but that didn’t mean others weren’t milling about on that side of the courtyard. 

“Go home, Lucy,” Flynn told her, walking forward. “Say you never saw me and you won’t be a part of this.”

“No!” Lucy spread her arms out as if to block his way, even though she couldn’t actually touch the wall and the RV at the same time. “No, I won’t let you do this.”

“Lucy!” he warned her.

“You worked _so hard_ to be a father again.” She was standing her ground even as he towered over her. “Emma isn’t worth throwing that away.”

He knew she was right, but that knowledge warred with the part of him who still saw himself as a failure. As broken and useless of a father as he had been a husband. “She almost killed my daughter!”

“I know.” Her words trembled but they were still firm. “And she needs to pay, but not like this. Not like this. You hurt her and you’ll lose Iris and she’ll still win.”

Flynn’s hand tightened around the grip of the gun. The anxious energy that wound him tight threatened to snap his very bones. He wanted to reach forward and toss Lucy to the side, it would be easy enough for him to do. And she knew it too, that she would never be able to hold him there with physical strength alone. 

But she didn’t scream either. One high pitched screech for help and everyone would come running and he’d be caught out. She believed, or maybe she just hoped, that he’d make the right choice and turn away.

With a grunt of pain Flynn began to pace. He knew this was wrong, he knew it and he was screaming at himself to stop. Then a part of him screamed that he had already failed by grabbing the gun so he might as well finish it. Though that would mean he’d never see his daughter again, his beautiful little girl, the one good thing he did right in this world.

“You haven’t failed her,” Lucy seemed to read his mind. “You’re still her father, just put the gun away and none of that has to change.”

“I couldn’t protect her!” Flynn rounded on Lucy. 

“You certainly couldn’t from prison,” she said neutrally, and he realized she wasn’t looking at him, but at his hand. He had raised his gun and pointed it at her, finger off the trigger, arm relaxed and his aim off enough that he’d likely miss her, but the gesture was there.

Flynn lowered the gun and there were tears, he could feel them warm on his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Lucy didn’t say anything, she walked forward and gently put her hand on his shoulder. He looked into her eyes and didn’t see fear, only understanding. She tugged lightly and he followed as she went into the RV. 

He put the gun back in its box as Lucy watched from the doorway. Once the weapon was out of sight, the demons that had drawn him to it quieted down, beat into submission by the rational part of his brain. He was tired, so tired.

“I almost did something stupid,” he admitted to Lorena over the phone, “but Lucy was here, she, ah, she made me see reason.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Lorena replied with a measure of relief.

They talked for a few moments, Flynn telling her he’d come by in the morning. He couldn’t see Iris in the state he was in, or, well, he couldn’t let her see him. Plans were made and she told him to get some rest. 

Lucy had stepped out for a moment and he thought he heard Amy outside. He wasn’t sure what was said, but Lucy came walking back in with two orders of food from Indian Soul.

“I’m betting you haven’t eaten since this morning,” she said, handing him one of the boats. “You should get some food in you.”

“Thank you.” He wanted to ask her to stay but it seemed like she already had that idea herself.

As he made them a cup of coffee to go with the food, Lucy’s phone beeped. She read the text, an odd little smile on her face, then put her phone away. She looked up at him and softly smiled. “So tell me, why did you pick the name Iris? Or was that Lorena’s call?”

Despite himself, a chuckle escaped his chest. He sat down in his chair with his food and coffee. And whereas before it had been Lucy doing the talking, it was his turn to bare his soul. As easy as Lucy found him to talk with, the reverse was also true. The demons slipped away and he started to feel at peace again.

At some point he fell asleep, waking up a few hours later to find himself with a blanket tucked around him, and Lucy curled up on the sofa.

He drifted back to sleep.

…

Lucy woke up before Flynn did. He had been wound rather tight and exhausted, so he needed the extra rest. Folding up the blanket she found in the compartment below the sofa cushion, she wasn’t sure what to do next. This was his home, did she leave? It wasn’t something she really wanted to do, to leave him alone.

She decided to make some coffee for him, as he had her. The smell of the brew had him drift softly back to consciousness. His hair was fluffed down over his eyes and it almost hid the residue of pain in them. 

“Thank you,” he said as she handed him a mug. It remained unsaid that he was thanking her for more than the coffee.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Lucy said as she sipped her coffee and sat back down. “But you said you were going to go see Iris, at nine.”

He glanced at his watch. “I should shower and change.” 

“Probably a good idea,” she lightly chuckled. Then glanced around, realizing the possible awkwardness of the situation. “I need to start recleaning the truck, just in case there are other surprises. So I’ll leave you to it.”

As Lucy stood, he scrambled to his feet like a gentleman at a dinner table. It made her smile at not just the sweetness, but the genuine nature of the action. 

“I’ll, ah, see you later then?” he asked.

Lucy tilted her head slightly, wondering what he meant by that, and why her stomach fluttered when she interpreted it in a less than casual nature. But this was Flynn, for as good of English he spoke, he had a tendency to speak with his foot in his mouth. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere. If Emma is behind this, I won’t let her run me out.”

“Good,” he replied with a light smile, pleased that she isn’t running away. 

She returned the smile, then sat her mug down. On impulse, she touched his arm and gave it a little squeeze. A comforting gesture to let him know there are no hard feelings about what happened the night before. It wasn’t necessarily forgotten, but it was forgiven. 

Once she got out of the RV, she took a deep breath. Not only did she have a large task ahead of her, but she needed to calm the butterflies that were still in her stomach. She supposed she should have been afraid last night, to have been terrified, and want to avoid Flynn, but that wasn’t the case.

It’s not like she enjoyed getting a gun pulled on her, it’s just that she knew that wasn’t what happened. Flynn’s PTSD had reared its ugly head and he just needed a moment to re-center himself. He never would have hurt her, she knew that, it never even came into question. But for the life of her, she couldn’t explain why or how she knew this.

It was a thought for another day. Right now, she was already down a day’s worth of profits, and was about to lose another. If she worked hard, she might be able to open for the dinner crowd.

After going home to shower and change, she grabbed Amy and went back to the truck.

“So, you slept over at his place, again,” Amy commented as they started to clear stuff out. 

Lucy nearly groaned, and not in the good way. “He was a friend who needed a friend after his daughter almost died. Him being male doesn’t change anything.”

“That’s true.” Amy nodded and pulled out the cleaning supplies. “But you have to admit, he’s so your type. Tall, dark… good with his hands.”

“I am going to murder you.”

Amy winked, grinning.

“Oh, hush.”

They shared a chuckle and then went back to work. 

Lucy couldn’t deny that she was starting to feel something more than friendship for the man. Was he good looking, sure, but he was also kind and smart and… and everything that she found attractive in a man. And moreover, he understood her, shared her love of cooking, but in a way that didn’t make her feel claustrophobic, like her family. 

But no, she wasn’t going to risk doing damage to the good thing that he had going with his ex and their daughter. 

“I’m here,” Jiya said when she finally joined them. “Do you think we’ll open tonight?”

“We should.” Lucy looked around, feeling pretty good that there weren’t any more surprises. “Every day we’re not open is lost money, and we were only just starting to get out of the red.”

Amy put her hand on her shoulder. “Are you worried Emma might try something else?”

“I’m sure she will.” Lucy sighed. “But not so soon after the last one. She’ll wait and catch us by surprise again.”

“I know she hates our family, just don’t know why she’s taking it out on you.” Amy looked like she was trying to snap a spatula in two. “We’ve made it clear we want nothing to do with them.”

“Let’s focus on what we can control.” Lucy started to grab her saucepans. “At least for today.”

They started their prep, missing the lunch rush but they would be able to start the dinner rush on time. Just as Lucy was tasting her sauce, Rufus walked up into the truck. His steps were hurried, but in a way that meant he was trying not to rush, but really wanted to.

“Outside, now,” he said quickly. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Great, all Lucy needed was for another thing to go wrong. At least this time it didn’t seem like she was the target, but she wasn’t going to press her luck. She turned off her heat sources and followed the rest of them outside. Though she wasn’t sure what Rufus was talking about, it all looked like the normal slow period between lunch and dinner.

Rufus pulled out his phone and gestured to Southern Discomfort. “I said I’d record it for him.”

Before any of them could ask what he meant, Lucy spotted Lorena walking towards the food truck. Beside her was one of their regulars, she thinks his name was Marcus. He was wearing a detective’s police shield on his belt. Lucy hadn’t even realized he was a cop. Speaking of, two uniformed officers followed behind them.

Jess was standing out front, like usual, getting things ready. She saw them and clearly read the room, or courtyard. But she made no moves to run. 

“Emma Whitmore,” the detective called out, “can you please exit the food truck, hands where we can see them.”

A good three breaths later, Emma walked down the steps, hands loose and open at her sides. “What’s this about?”

“Tampering with food is a felony,” Marcus told her. “Especially if it’s done specifically to harm others. There’s a lot of people with nut allergies out there.”

“Are you talking about yesterday?” Emma nearly laughed, crossing her arms. “You should be talking to Lucy. She’s the one who almost killed your daughter.”

That last bit was directed at Lorena who was calm, like, scary calm. “Someone planted the peanut oil in her truck in order to cause an incident and damage her reputation.”

“Sounds farfetched,” Emma snorted. “But I’m guessing you think I did it. Why would I?”

“I’m sure we’ll figure out the motive in the course of investigation,” Marcus answered her. A little crowd was gathering, realizing something was up. “The evidence speaks for itself.”

“What evidence?” The red-head seemed very confident that she’d gotten away with her crime.

That’s when Lorena smiled, and it sent chills down Lucy’s spine, and she was so glad it wasn’t directed at her. 

“Do you know the Wycroft Building?” Lorena asked Emma, but Lucy was very familiar with it. “It’s a block away from Lucy’s apartment building. Years ago, before I started work on the Lifeboat, I helped to renovate it. The building owner is a friend of mine. Let me have all the camera footage that covers the entrance, which, also shows most of the road.”

Emma shifted slightly on her feet.

“Your car passed through there on Sunday, at 2:08pm,” Marcus added. “Seeing as it’s nowhere near your own residence, or place of work, you want to explain what you were doing in the neighborhood?”

“I was at the music festival,” Emma waved him off. “I went to go get more supplies. I must have passed through there.”

“You were gone an awfully long time,” Jess said, and Emma turned sharply to look at her. “It shouldn’t have taken you more than half an hour, but you took almost two and said it was because you went to two different stores.”

“Which two stores?” Lorena asked. “Should be easy enough to check. You buy from Northgate Market, right? The Operations Manager is an old friend of Connor’s. In fact, I’ve already put in calls to several building managers I know, and trust me, I know a lot of them. What are we going to find when we put all the pieces of video together?”

“You’re not going to find anything.” Emma sternly held her ground. 

“I’m still going to need you to come down to the station for questioning,” Marcus told her. “And you too Jessica, and your sous chef.”

Emma put her hands on her hips and got defensive. “We’re about to start the dinner rush. I have food already prepped and cooked.”

“Oh, that’s another thing,” Lorena said almost sweetly. “I’m expiring your contract as of this moment. I want your truck gone within twenty-four hours, or I’ll have it towed and impounded.”

“You can’t do that.” Emma stepped forward and Lucy tensed, thinking Emma was about to attack Lorena.

Lorena’s only reaction was to step forward herself, retaining her calm and even voice. “I don’t need a reason, it’s in your contract.” Lorena leaned in. “My daughter could have _died_. You are _never_ to set foot on this property again.”

“If a fight breaks out, my money’s on Lorena,” Jiya whispered next to Lucy.

Lucy gave her friend an incredible look.

“What?” Jiya shrugged. “Don’t tell me you’re not thinking it too.”

She did have a point.

Their attention was drawn back to the scene as Emma was being escorted away by the cops, though not in handcuffs, she wasn’t arrested, yet. Emma glanced over her shoulder and locked eyes with Lucy. There was a burning hatred there that Lucy still didn’t understand. Yes, Lucy was Rittenhouse. Yes, apparently Emma felt slighted by them. 

But to risk people’s lives like that?

“And scene,” Rufus said, turning off his recording. “Flynn stayed with Iris, so I said I’d film it for him.”

“So glad she’s gone,” Amy said about Emma. “But a shame about Jess, she seemed like one of the good guys.”

“Yeah,” Jiya agreed.

Good guys, bad guys, and everything in between. Lucy just wanted a little bit of peace. To not be haunted by her family’s legacy. Was that so much to ask?

Apparently so.


	5. All My Exes

**All My Exes**

After Emma was ejected from the Lifeboat, things got a little chaotic. The police were trying to build a case against her, so they took statements from everyone and went over Lucy’s truck, looking for point of entry. It might have been a simple case of lock-picking.

Emma still declared her innocence, but it was in words only. The couple of times Lucy had seen her since, she had a sharpness in her eyes that made Lucy wary. But Flynn had been around too, and that had made her feel safe, protected. 

Lorena was looking for a new food truck to come in, and Lucy felt that once the empty spot was filled, maybe everything would start feeling like normal again.

“Lucy,” Lorena called from the bottom of the stairs, “can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” Lucy replied, adding some seasoning to her sauce while Jiya was dicing up chicken behind her.

“I have a question for you,” the woman said once she was inside. “Jess came to me today looking for a job. She’s bartended for me in the past, when I’ve been SOL on staff. She’s good, and since Emma fired her for being a witness against her, she needs a new job.”

Amy had told Lucy about how Jess was originally from Texas and had moved because of her then husband. But when that fell apart, Jess went back to school, trying to get a degree in economics and business management. She wanted to run her own bar someday. She had a scholarship but needed money to actually live on.

“I’m inclined to hire her,” Lorena continued, “but I wanted to make sure it was okay with you, after everything that happened.”

Lucy took a moment to think that over. Jess was a capable person, she could find a job at another bar, but she’d have regulars here who knew her and might tip better. So the question came down to whether or not seeing her would be upsetting enough to take that away from her.

“Jess wasn’t part of Emma’s... schemes, or whatever we want to call it,” Lucy said after she decided. “And she's genuinely fond of Iris, was mortified at what happened. If you’re okay with her working here, then it won’t bother me.”

“That was my thought too.” Lorena nodded, glad that they were seeing eye to eye on this. “I’ll let her know she can start tonight.”

Even though Jess started working at the Lifeboat, Lucy didn’t see her at all that first weekend. Between Jess being inside serving drinks, and Lucy being in her truck, their paths just never crossed.

Flynn on the other hand… they were still bumping into it each other. Not that Lucy minded, though she might prefer something a little less... trash dumpster.

“Thanks,” Lucy said after she threw her bag into the dumpster, Flynn holding up the lid for her again. It seemed to be always down, and with the dumpster tucked back into the alcove she couldn’t get purchase to push the lid up high enough. “A bit of a design flaw here.”

“You know, Lorena designed all of this,” he said with a smirk as her eyes widened in horror at her gaft. Then he just laughed. “She’s aware of the issue, that she didn’t think it through. Feel free to tease her about it. The bar staff do all the time.”

That surprised her. “Oh?” 

“Yeah,” Flynn kept chuckling. “Maybe if we annoy her enough she’ll take a sledgehammer to it.”

“You think she’d let me do it instead?” Lucy asked in almost seriousness. 

“We should all do it, make a party of it.” Flynn grinned. “It’ll be fun.”

Lucy laughed out despite herself and Flynn laughed with her. 

The next weekend, there was an unexpected downpour of rain. After the deluge had passed, Lucy went to exit her food truck and found a large puddle had formed right at the step down. She frowned, realizing she hadn’t worn her sneakers that day. Her non-slip loafers would not handle the water well.

“Need a hand?” Flynn said.

Lucy looked up to see him standing on the other side of the puddle. She put her hands out and he reached forward, both hands on her waist. As he picked her up, she braced her hands on his shoulders. He spun her sideways lightly and sat her back on the muddy ground.

“Thanks.” Lucy was hoping she didn’t imagine his fingers lingering before letting go.

“Anytime,” he replied in that accent of his that made everything sound so… so…

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Jiya asked from the bottom step of the food truck.

Flynn chuckled, then grabbed Jiya and sat her down as well. 

“A girl could get used to this,” Jiya said, winking at Lucy before walking away. 

Lucy cleared her throat and then, wait, what did she exit the food truck for anyway?

The weekend after that, Flynn was trying out a new recipe and Lucy found herself in his food truck, chatting with him about it. They ended up creating a really flavorful croquette and sauce. Ultimately, Iris was the final word on what ‘tasted good.’ She gave it two thumbs up.

He was to debut it the following Friday, but was having issues with his RV and skipped lunch. This meant more business for Lucy and Indian Soul as Lorena hadn’t found a replacement yet for Southern Discomfort. The woman was being very cautious because she knew that Emma had those among the food truck community who were on her side. 

During the lull between lunch and dinner, Lucy found herself at the bar with Amy, Lorena, Denise, and Jess—Jiya was off somewhere with Rufus. The women were looking through a list of six hopefuls vying for the prime location. Emma getting ousted didn’t damage the Lifeboat’s reputation at all. They may have lost a couple of regulars over it, but if they were willing to support Emma after what she did, no one really thought it was a loss.

“We can probably count Finger Lickin’ out,” Jess said, looking through the list. “Whenever we’d do festivals, we’d park with them and work the crowds together. I don’t know how _chummy_ chummy they were with Emma, but if we’re trying to narrow the trucks down.”

“I’d hate to punish someone for having an acquaintance,” Lorena sighed. “I just don’t want to make the same mistake again.”

“I still don’t understand why she did it,” Denise said thoughtfully. “I mean, there is no doubt in my mind she did, but I don’t understand the motive. Emma was ambitious, sure, but what would she gain by tanking Lucy’s?”

Amy nearly growled in annoyance. “Hence why no charges have been filed yet.”

Lorena saw something through the front. “Oh, our liquor order is here.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Jess told her and headed down to the end of the bar.

Lucy scanned through the list. “Would it be smart or crass to replace Southern Discomfort with a similar truck? El Diablo Rojo was Emma’s stiffest competition.”

“It’s also family run,” Denise pointed out. “Call me a little biased about that though.”

“It would be smart to keep the food truck’s varied,” Lorena sounded like she might have made her decision. “And some of our customers really do like their hot sauce.”

There was the distinct sound of clicking bottles as a man pushed a dolly loaded with crates past them, Jess following behind. “We got shorted two bottles of Maker’s last time, you’re not leaving until we do a count.”

It had become painfully clear that Jess’ real talents laid in working the bar. She had been wasted potential with Emma. Jess said she only stuck around with Emma out of a sense of loyalty. Well, until Emma put people’s lives in danger. Sure, Emma knew there were EpiPen’s stashed all over the Lifeboat, Flynn’s truck and RV, but that was beside the point.

“Jess?” Someone called the woman’s name and they all turned at the sound. There was a guy, maybe Lucy’s age, with sandy blonde hair, standing a few feet away, between two tables.

“Wyatt?” Jess frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you, if that’s okay?” He didn’t seem at all as Jess had described her ex-husband. She had mentioned his PTSD, drinking, and general assholery. But this guy seemed very reserved, and unsure.

Of course, it could have been an act. Lucy and the others looked to Jess with the same expression of ‘you want us to get rid of him?’ Amy had a black belt, Denise had been a cop, and Lorena was apparently really good with a knife. Lucy wasn’t much for physical violence herself, but she’d happily hold the door or bash a bottle or two over his head if it came to that.

Jess seemed to see something that the rest of them didn’t. She waved them off with a look, then said, “I’m gonna take my 30, if that’s okay?”

“Sure, thirty minutes,” Lorena replied, not because she was a stickler about break times, but if thirty minutes passed and Jess wasn’t back, she’d send out a search party.

The exes then walked out of the bar into the courtyard so they could talk. Lucy was reminded of her own almost-husband-ex. She was lucky that it ended pretty amicably, even if they never talked to each other after the breakup. It brought up a lot of strange emotions, most of which she couldn’t really get a grasp on.

So she turned her eyes back to the list of food trucks and just didn’t think about it anymore.

…

Flynn had already lost valuable sales during the lunch rush. Iris would be home from school soon and they’d have to start prepping for dinner. He really wanted to get this damn thing fixed before then. Putting his hands on his hip, Flynn stared down at the engine of his RV. Maybe if he glared at it long enough, it would fix itself out of sheer terror?

“Look, Wyatt,” he heard Jess say from just on the other side of the privacy wall, “if this is your attempt to—"

“No, it’s not that,” the man, probably Wyatt, said quickly, then stopped, chastising himself. “I cut you off, sorry, I’m trying not to do that anymore.”

Jess was quiet, as if she was contemplating his words. Flynn stepped back from the RV a few feet and he could just see the two of them standing on the path that went across the back of the courtyard. She didn’t look threatened and he looked rather deflated.

“Just say what you came to say,” Jess told him, crossing her arms.

“Okay, here goes.” Wyatt took a long, deep breath. “You were right, about everything. I argued with you because I didn’t want you to be right. I didn’t... I didn’t want to be _him_. And I know this is all coming way too late, and this isn’t an attempt to get back together because I know I can’t unring that bell, and maybe this is more for me than for you, but... you were right.”

Flynn had seen that look before, on himself, on others in his PTSD support group. Wyatt had finally hit that wall he had been running at full steam. 

“Well, then here’s my obligatory I told you so,” Jess replied, though with less bite than he knew the woman capable of. 

Wyatt opened his mouth but decided to simply nod his acceptance instead.

“Are you getting treatment?” Jess then asked. Flynn could recognize that pang in her voice. She might not love her ex anymore, but sometimes it’s a lot easier to stop loving someone than to stop caring about them. 

“Yeah, I see a therapist every other week,” Wyatt spoke the words as if he maybe hadn’t said them out loud before. “I also joined a support group. Not exactly AA, but, I, ah… I stopped drinking.”

“And you walked into a bar?” Jess said as if that was one of the least dumbest things he’s ever done.

“I didn’t think you’d like me showing up at your apartment.” Wyatt shrugged. “At least in a public place you wouldn’t drop kick me the moment you saw me.”

There was a short moment of silence, then Jess started to stifle a laugh. Wyatt smiled and it was clear Flynn was missing a joke between them. Jess then reached forward and gave Wyatt a simple hug. He reacted timidly, just lightly putting his arms around her in return. 

“Okay,” Jess said as she stepped back. “I get off at ten. If you want to come back we can go to IHOP and you can tell me all about this new-you.”

“He still leaves towels on the bathroom floor.”

“Oh, yeah, we are never getting back together,” Jess replied dryly, then chuckled. “I’ll see you at ten.”

“I’ll come back around,” he promised, then Jess walked off. 

Flynn waited to see what Wyatt did once Jess had her back to him. The man simply drained, as if he had gotten a heavy weight taken off his shoulders by realizing a great fear wasn’t as scary as once thought. This was good. Both because it meant he wasn’t trying to scam Jess, a crime for which Flynn would not allow, but also, it was good to see a fellow vet get help and recover from what war did to a person.

Wyatt took a breath and then started to turn towards where Flynn was, as if he was going to exit the bar through the back path instead of the courtyard. This made sense because he would avoid all the beer drinkers. But it also meant he’d know Flynn was being nosey if Flynn didn’t move fast enough. He returned to working on the RV engine, pretending he hadn’t heard or seen a thing.

“Having trouble there?” Wyatt called out.

“Uh, yeah,” Flynn replied, turning to see the man approach.

“Need any help?” he asked. “I’m pretty good with fixing cars and trucks. An RV can’t be much different.”

A vague memory surfaced of Jess mentioning that her ex, for all his faults, did know his way around an engine block. “She won’t start. I mean, I don’t really go anywhere, but I like to make sure I keep her in working order, in case I have to.”

“What have you tried so far?” Wyatt asked as he started looking over the engine. 

Flynn filled him in on the hours of useless toiling he had done. Normally he could fix these things, his own food truck giving him far too many fits, but this time he was stumped. Flynn had the slight paranoia that maybe Emma had done something to it. But then all her attacks had been directed at Lucy.

After about fifteen minutes, Wyatt found the faulty connection between the starter relay and starter solenoid. Power was being grounded incorrectly due to some rust.

“I would have figured it out,” Flynn said as he walked out of the RV after a successful test start, “eventually.”

“You’re welcome,” Wyatt replied wryly. 

“I’d offer to buy you a drink,” Flynn said as he closed the hood of the RV, “but I heard you tell Jess you’re not drinking anymore.”

“Thought you might of heard that.” Wyatt scratched the back of his neck, then shrugged. “Not much to tell.”

“We both know that’s not true.” Flynn leveled his gaze at the man, letting him see the scars lashed across his own psyche. “But if you’re not ready to share with strangers, I get that.”

“I…” Wyatt looked away for a moment, then back. “The mission comes first, right? I 'won’ a damn coin toss. I got to leave while my team died so that I could get some intel out. They gave me a medal for it. Called me a hero.”

“But you don’t feel like a hero,” Flynn said knowingly. “Never will.”

“Nope.” Wyatt took a slow breath and let it out. “But every time I say that out loud, I can live with myself a little bit more.”

“Funny how that works…”

“Yeah...”

Quiet settled between them, a sense of kinship that the other person understood.

“You still in the service?” Flynn asked him.

“Delta Force,” he answered with a helpless shrug. “I thought about getting out, but I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”

Flynn knew that feeling well. When you’re shaped to be a weapon, it can be hard to become multi-purpose. He gestured to the RV. “You’re pretty good at this mechanic stuff.”

“I am, but, uh,” he gave one of those might as well laugh instead of cry chuckles, “I only am because of the shit things my alcoholic dad did to me, so, I’d have to think long and hard if that’s something I would want to do, day in and day out.”

“Understandable.”

A small tornado came around the corner and latched itself onto Flynn. 

“ _Mala cvijeta_ ,” Flynn chuckled as he tried to peel her off. “How was school?”

“Booooooring,” she pouted. “I can cook with you tonight, right?”

“Of course.” He smiled down at her. After her trip to the hospital, she had been kept out of the trucks for a few weeks, just in case. She had started to climb the walls at home, or anywhere she was, really, so last weekend they let her help out with the lunch rush on Saturday. “Put your stuff up and grab your apron.”

“Yessssss,” she said and then bolted for the door of the RV.

“Cute kid,” Wyatt told him, with maybe a touch of envy wrapped in sadness.

“Thanks.”

Lorena came around the corner of the privacy wall. “There’s a rogue koala on the loose.”

“Inside,” Flynn chuckled as he jutted a thumb to the door.

She nodded and looked at Wyatt, then back at him. “Get the RV fixed?”

“Wyatt here was actually useful,” Flynn said with a smirk.

“I see Jess has talked about me,” Wyatt nearly mumbled.

“Yes, she has.” Lorena leveled her best doom stare at him. “And for your sake, I hope you’re honest in your endeavor to be a better person, otherwise you have a lot of people you’ll have to answer to.”

Wyatt was suitably chastised. “Understood, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” Lorena said in a way that made Flynn look around to be sure no sharp objects were in reach.

To avoid any bloodshed, Flynn piped in, “He’s Delta Force.”

“Oh,” she replied with complete annoyance and a smidgen of disgust.

“Ready, _tata_!” Iris bounded out of the truck. She had changed out of her school uniform shirt and was now wearing a t-shirt, apron tied around her waist.

A conversation Flynn had with Jess a few months back floated to the surface and he had an idea. “Sweetheart, do you mind if Wyatt joins us in the truck? You can show him the ropes.”

“That would be fun!” Iris beamed at the idea of being the teacher for once. “Who’s Wyatt? Is that Wyatt? Hi, Wyatt!”

“Ah,” Wyatt stumbled. “What?”

“You’re going to come back later anyway,” Flynn told him as he glanced over at Lorena. She wasn’t opposed so he kept going. “Might as well hang around and do something that isn’t military or mechanical. And I find that a kitchen is a lot like a battlefield, only less people shooting at you.”

“Oh, fun,” he said in a very neutral way, but the point was gotten across. Sometimes it’s hard to get what you’re trained to do, what you’ve spent your life doing, out of your system. Flynn would be lying if he said that cooking, the chaos of it, was strangely comfortable and scratched itches that might never go away.

He had talked about this to Lucy on a few occasions. She had claustrophobia but being in the truck didn’t bother her because the food, the cooking, it occupied all the senses. Sometimes you needed to be in the moment. Lucy understood that more than anyone he had ever met.

“It will be fun!” Iris said, grabbing Wyatt’s arm and leading him away. “Safety is always first priority. No stabbing people. MOM!”

Lorena sighed. “Stab one person, one time, and you get a reputation.”

Flynn stifled a laugh, but it was too late and he earned a glare from Lorena.

“You sure about this?” she gestured her head towards Wyatt and Iris who disappeared around the corner.

Cooking may not be Wyatt’s thing, but if Flynn could show him that options are out there for another busted up vet like himself… well… “I think so. And I think Jess would be too, but if she has an issue, let me know.”

“Will do.” She nodded, and then she walked back to the bar while he quickly locked up the RV.

As plans went, this wasn’t the worst he’s ever had.

…

By the time Lorena picked up Iris to take her home, Flynn had decided that Wyatt might actually make a decent chef… in a few years. He followed orders well, like a good soldier, and kept calm. All he needed to do was learn, well, how to actually cook.

At ten, Jess ended her shift and brought out drinks for them. She gave Wyatt a cider that even though was in a ‘beer bottle’ was non-alcoholic. And since they were at the lull between the dinner crowd and the late-night crowd, the three of them hung around outside chatting about, of all things, Texas. Wyatt and Jess were from West Texas, which was a couple hours north of Houston where his mother was from.

Eventually the others wandered over, curious if anything.

“I’m Lucy,” she introduced herself.

“Ma’am,” Wyatt replied with a nod.

“Ma’am? We’re practically the same age,” she replied, annoyed.

“He’s military,” Jess said with a roll of her eyes. “All them Delta Force boys are like that. Oh, lord, Dave, how is he doing?”

“He’s doing great.” Wyatt chuckled. “Just got engaged.”

“Good for him.” Jess tipped her beer towards Wyatt. 

It was good to see that Jess and Wyatt were, in this moment at least, able to just hang out and chat. Clearly all their issues weren’t going to disappear in one day, but this meant that the healing had started. They had been best friends before they married, it would be nice to see them be friends now. But then Flynn might be a little biased on believing exes can be friends.

A group of guys came out of the bar, but they didn’t seem to be interested in food just yet, so Flynn ignored them for now.

“Did you enjoy cooking?” Jiya asked Wyatt as Rufus handed her an unlabled beer bottle. The two had started working on a recipe together.

“It was… interesting,” he said politely. “Apparently I need to learn French. I still don’t know what _mise en place_ means, even though he kept yelling it at me.”

Lucy stifled a laugh behind her hand and Flynn smiled at her, knowing she’d probably appreciate that the most. But then she took pity on Wyatt and explained it to him, along with some other tidbits of culinary lingo and history. Flynn watched as her eyes lit up as they would often do when talking about cooking. He found he could just sit and listen to her for hours, and boy was that a scary thought indeed.

A man broke off from the group of drinkers and headed towards them. Flynn suspected he was going to order food, but he seemed to have his eyes set directly on Lucy. Amy noticed him too and he saw the recognition in her eyes. She tapped her hand against her sister’s arm but Lucy was so engrossed in explaining how restaurants came into existence because of the French Revolution that she didn’t notice.

The guy was almost as tall as Flynn, dark hair, and didn’t look threatening, but Flynn would take no chances. Not with Emma still out there.

“Lucy,” the man said when he was a few feet away.

She startled slightly and turned to face him. “Oh, hello,” she said nervously, then cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Going away party for a resident.” He gestured to the group of guys enjoying their beers. “We’ve hit a few bars. I didn’t know we were coming here, but I’m the D.D. so I couldn’t leave them. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said quickly, then realized everyone was staring at her. She cleared her throat again. “Noah, you know Amy and Jiya, the others are some of the people I work with here at The Lifeboat. Everyone, this is Noah, my, ah, ex-fiancé.”

“Hi,” Noah said, a polite smile on his face.

The following silence was cut by Rufus giving a very neutral, almost to the point of comedic, “Hey.”

“Why don’t we go over there and talk,” Lucy said, then basically grabbed his arm and walked him towards the empty area where Southern Discomfort used to sit.

“She going to be okay?” Jess asked the question Flynn was thinking. Though he suspected Jess’ question was more of Lucy’s physical safety than her emotional, which was Flynn’s main concern seeing as the man never looked to have been in a fight in his life.

“Oh, yeah,” Amy sounded confident. “Noah’s actually a really nice guy, and I don’t mean that in the sarcastic nice guy way.”

“So why is he an ex?” Rufus asked and Jiya thumped him in the shoulder.

Amy sighed. “They made better friends than lovers, but found that out just a little too late.”

…

“Are you doing okay?” Noah asked her, gesturing to the truck. “Is your claustrophobia giving you problems?”

“It tries to,” she admits. “But my love of cooking wins out.”

“Yes, you do love to cook.” He smiled a little nostalgically. “You look really happy, Lucy. I don’t think I’ve seen you this… content and relaxed, before.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Well, not without some, ah, physical exertion,” he said with a light grin.

Lucy chuckled, and was he right. Sure, her feet hurt and she had a burn on her right pinky and a bandaged cut on her left thumb, but all the tension that used to knot her up was mostly gone. It had unwound itself slowly, to the point that she only now noticed because he pointed it out.

“This place has been good for you,” Noah commented.

“Yeah,” she couldn’t help but glance over at her friends, new and old. 

They were all staring, of course, but then quickly pretended that they weren’t. Except for Flynn, he wanted to make sure she was okay. He wasn’t going to barge over and assert dominance, as they say, but he’d jump in if she gave him so much as a nod that she needed him. But she smiled and he got the message, she was okay.

Perhaps more than okay.

“We used to be friends,” Lucy said as she looked back at Noah. “Do you ever miss that part?”

“Sometimes,” he confessed with a sad smile. “I miss being your guinea pig when you come up with new recipes.”

“And I miss our morning jogs,” she echoed his smile back to him. “You always made it fun. I rarely do it anymore.”

“I admit it, Lucy. I miss my friend.”

…

It was late, so much so Lucy had already closed down her truck for the night. Jiya disappeared with Rufus and Amy had to be up in the morning for some project for one of her journalism classes. Wyatt had also left after some tentative promises to Jess. Flynn was in his RV but Lorena had come back to the bar to deal with some work stuff and had stuck around.

So Lucy found herself sitting at the bar inside the Lifeboat with Jess next to her and Lorena behind the bar, serving all of them something from her secret stash.

"Exes are like buses,” Lorena said as she topped off Lucy’s glass, “they apparently all show up at once.”

Jess knocked back a shot. “It was definitely a surprise.”

“Good or bad?” Lucy asked as she took a drink, still trying to decompress from seeing Noah and realizing how much she had missed him.

“Good, I hope,” Jess answered, staring off into row of beers on the back counter. “I mean, I loved him, once, but then the war and some other... things that he didn’t want to accept about himself, churned itself inside of him until I felt like I didn’t know him anymore.”

Lorena poured her another shot. “If I were to look up Toxic Masculinity in the dictionary, would I find his photo?”

“Oh yeah.” Jess let out a tired laugh then threw the shot back. After taking a moment to let the burn subside, she said, “We were at a bar, he thought me and this guy were flirting, but Wyatt was just too drunk to realize I was trying to keep the creep off of me. We argued, he wouldn’t give me the keys, was driving drunk and reckless, so I made him stop and I got out of the car, and the fucker drove off.”

“Seriously?” Lucy almost choked on her drink.

“Yeah, and that creep from the bar? He followed us, then me to the bus stop, tried to ‘give me a lift’ and I was like hells no,” she continued, shaking her head. “I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if the bus had been late. Anyway, that was the final straw.” She waved her hands in the air as if tossing him away. “I tried to be supportive, but if he wasn’t going to help himself, well, it’s not the woman’s job to fix the man.”

“Here, here,” Lucy and Lorena both said, raising their glasses.

“After the divorce, I was perfectly happy with never seeing him ever again,” she said, then went soft. “But seeing him today, it was like I was looking at the old Wyatt, almost.”

“You’re not thinking of getting back together, are you?” Lucy meant it as a neutral question. She wasn’t sure how well she succeeded but Jess looked contemplative.

“He left me on the side of the road, he still did that,” she said with a very annoyed expression, then shook it off. “Besides, I think the only reason we got romantic was because we were best friends who only had each other,” she admitted. “There was a lot of co-dependency, and that meant I forgave a lot of personal quirks that otherwise would have driven me bat shit crazy long before the alcoholism.”

“Flynn mentioned Wyatt saying something about towels on the bathroom floor?”

“Oh, god.” Jess gave a very loud _ugh_ and laid her head on the bar whilst holding up her glass for another shot.

Lorena obliged the woman, saying, "Last one for a bit. Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” Jess replied like a chastised teenager. “Wyatt made one of those govedina’s for me. It... well... it wasn’t burnt at least.”

They all had a good chuckle at that. 

“But yeah,” Jess said after she threw back the shot, “I think there’s a chance we could at least be friends again. We have a lot of history together and, well, as you and Flynn have showed us, it doesn’t have to be a divide.”

“Yeah, you're right, it doesn’t.” Lucy was thoughtful. “Noah and I were friends. He was one of the few people who didn’t expect anything of me, especially when it came to food. And he really is a sweet guy.”

“So what happened?” Jess said politely. “If I can ask.”

“My mother,” Lucy answered with a defeated growl. “All she saw in Noah was a doctor from a right and proper family. She pushed and, well, I guess like you, it kinda felt like why not, you know? We were friends.” She sighed and let it all out. “Then you’re picking out your wedding dress and you realize your relationship is basically friends with benefits.”

She finished off her drink and gestured for a refill, Lorena pouring her a new one.

“I supposed we could have tried to make it work.” Lucy shrugged and stared down through the liquid to the bottom of her glass. “But we both knew we weren’t doing this because we wanted to, but because it was expected of us. It would have been a marriage founded on a lie. So we broke it off.” She glanced up at Lorena. “I never considered we could go back to being just friends.

Lorena gave a thoughtful smile, leaning against the bar and sipping at her drink. “I’ll be honest. Garcia and I? It could have easily swung the other way. And getting where we are... it wasn’t as easy as we make it out to be.”

Jess and Lucy looked at each other, then at Lorena, politely asking the same question of what exactly happened, but they weren’t going to push.

“It was a couple weeks before Christmas, 2014,” Lorena started off, taking a nice slow breath. “It was late, we were already in bed, and I heard Iris coughing. I went to make her some tea and ended up knocking the tin onto the floor. It bounced, _pop, pop,_ which sounded fairly close to the sound a silenced gun might make.”

Lorena looked away for a moment, then resolved to finish. “Garcia came around the corner, gun drawn. I know, in my heart of hearts, he wouldn’t have pulled the trigger. But I flinched, dived behind the counter. Garcia realized what he did and left, still wearing his t-shirt and sleep pants, no shoes. Then Stiv, um, a friend of his, usually comes around during the weekday, you might have met him?”

“A couple of times,” Lucy told her.

“Well, he found Garcia miles away, in a church, praying to God for answers.” Her eyes managed to get even sadder. “When God didn’t answer, Garcia decided the only way to protect us, was to keep away, keep the darkness from us.” She shook her head. “The next year we barely saw him and I worried every damn night that he was going to get himself killed. And I did not want my daughter, _our daughter_ , to have to go through that.”

“You, ah, formed an intervention?” Jess asked.

“Of a sorts.” Lorena nodded, taking a deep breath and letting the memories wash out. “Told him a lot of things in no uncertain terms. Got him into therapy, worked on his PTSD. And I’m not going to take credit for his recovery. Once he realized what was happening to him, and what he could lose, he worked damn hard to get himself back into a place where he didn’t have to worry about what he might do.” A soft smile formed on her lips. “He said he’d do whatever it took, even steal a time machine if he could.”

Lucy had no doubt that Flynn said that. There were so many things he had done that he would have taken back if he could have. She had seen the demons that he still carried with him. It would be a struggle he’d likely have them the rest of his life, but that didn’t make him any less in her eyes.

Even after he pointed his gun at her, she knew it wasn’t malicious. He had no intention of shooting in general, let alone at her. But she understood Lorena’s fear all those years ago. If Flynn was in the middle of an actual trauma induced hallucination, he wouldn’t be seeing Lorena, he’d be seeing whatever enemy his mind superimposed on her. 

“So, yeah, our story could have easily turned out similar to yours if he refused to help himself,” Lorena told Jess, then looked to Lucy. “But like you, one day you wake up and you realize the guy next to you isn’t your husband anymore, just a glorified roommate. And I’d be lying if I said, after the divorce, I didn’t have the occasional thought that I could have tried harder to stay together.”

“And now you don’t?” Lucy asked before she could stop herself.

“No, it was the right decision.” Lorena said with absolute certainty. “We had what we had, and then it was over. To try to hold onto something so broken? It just means you get cut up. And he’ll try to say the breakup was all his fault, but, I think it was just how the cards were meant to be played. We had a good run, we had Iris, and now we’re all in a happier, better place. Why be mad about it? What would that gain us?”

Nothing to gain but everything to lose. 

“Though, I will say this,” Lorena said after she emptied her glass. “Garcia’s in a good place right now, but he could be happier.”

“How so?” Jess asked and Lucy was thankful for that because she wasn’t sure what would have come out of her mouth if she spoke.

“He should start dating again.” Lorena shrugged, sitting her glass down and pouring herself another. “But I’m supposed to stay out of it, so… more alcohol?”

“Yes, please,” Jess held out her glass. 

Lucy let Lorena top up her glass, and the conversation turned to other subjects. But Lucy kept thinking about Noah, and how he was her friend… and Flynn… who felt like… like something more… that they meant so much more to each other. It was feeling she needed to bury, because if Flynn wanted to date, he’d be off the market five seconds after putting himself onto it.

And these were all alcohol induced thoughts anyway… it wasn’t like Flynn thought of her as anything other than a friend.


	6. Trust Fall

**Trust Fall**

Wyatt started coming back every weekend. Partially of course because he was trying to repair his friendship with Jess, but also to learn how to cook. Apparently he wasn’t completely sold on going into cooking as a career, but, in his words, he should at least learn how to cook for himself and not live off tv dinners and take out.

“Enjoying being the teacher?” Lucy asked Flynn one Saturday evening as they were taking out the trash.

“It has its moments,” he nodded. “But I would think someone with his training would be better at knife cuts.”

Lucy laughed. “I swear sometimes I still see red on my finger.” 

“I think Iris has a few markers I can borrow.” Flynn grinned, knowing she was talking about teachers marking their student’s index finger with a red marker whenever they saw them placing said finger on the top of the knife as they cut. 

They headed back and it was pretty dead. Had been all day. Sometimes that just happened. A perfect storm of other events going on around town, threats of weather, and there was a major holiday in a week. But the occasional slow day wasn’t a bad thing, it allowed all the trucks to get out and relax a bit. Especially as the new truck, El Diablo Rojo, had just come in a few weeks back and they were still getting to know them.

“Hey, Lucy.” Jessica waved at Lucy and Flynn as they walked into the courtyard. “You got a second?”

“Sure.” Lucy nodded her thanks to Flynn who went over to talk to Karl, probably to let him leave early if he wanted to.

“Okay,” Jess said as she pulled Lucy off to the side. “This is going to be an awkward question out of the blue, but… is Noah bisexual?”

Lucy raised both eyebrows. It wasn’t really her place to talk about other people’s sexuality without their knowing. And why on Earth would Jessica be asking in the first place?

Jess gestured discreetly to where Noah and Wyatt were standing off from El Diablo Rojo. They had boats in their hands and talking about whatever it was they ordered. One would think they were old friends and Noah had that look… oh… _oh_ …

“I know I can trust you,” Jess continued as Lucy pieced that together. “Wyatt is bi, or gay, he’s… his father beat him so far into the closet that he doesn’t even know which one he’s in. He’s still trying to figure it out but there is a lot of toxic crap he’s having to dig out from under to do so.”

“I see.” Lucy nodded, letting the woman know she wouldn’t speak a word of this to anyone.

“I know he loved me,” Jess spoke with sad nostalgia. “But romantic attachment and sexual attraction are two different things, they don’t always match up. Anyway,” she shook her head, getting back on track, “I know Wyatt, and I’m pretty sure he’s crushing hard on Noah.”

Lucy glanced over at Wyatt who was smiling, listening to every word Noah was saying. He almost looked like a golden retriever wanting pets. “You’re wondering if you should be encouraging or prepare for heartbreak fallout?”

“Pretty much,” Jess admitted. “I can’t figure out these things out for him, but I can still be supportive.”

“Well,” Lucy took a breath and settled on what she was going to say. “Noah isn’t bi, he’s pan. He’s had boyfriends in the past, but not a physical ‘type.’ And the way he’s looking at Wyatt… I think he’s definitely interested.”

“Interested is good.” Jess let out a relieved smile and glanced between them. “I just hope he’s patient.”

“He’s a doctor.”

“That means nothing.”

Lucy couldn’t argue with that. 

The evening wore on and Lucy closed down earlier than normal. She stuck around because Noah was content to hang to hang around, not that he needed Lucy’s permission to stay. But it made things easier for all involved, especially as Wyatt seemed to blue screen every few minutes or so.

“Wyatt’s pretty cute,” Lucy said to Noah once everyone had begun to leave.

“Not really your type.” Noah smirked at her. 

Lucy simply gave him a look of ‘you know what I meant, you pain in the butt.’

“Wyatt is _very_ pretty,” Noah admitted with a chuckle. “And actually very funny, once he gets going. But there is a _lot_ of baggage there.”

“So I hear,” Lucy said, making sure the truck was locked up for the night.

“Yeah.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Early days yet.”

She was going to tell him to be gentle but she knew she didn’t have to. Noah was truly nice, not at all the typical narcissistic doctor. He always supported her, but at the end of the day, he simply didn’t understand her in the way that she needed him to. She didn’t know what Wyatt needed at this point in his life, but if he needed gentle and compassionate, he found the right guy.

“Still on for jogging Monday?” Noah asked.

“Oh, yes,” she said, grabbing her car keys from her purse. A few weeks ago they started jogging again which helped to keep her in shape to deal with the physical demands of working the truck. But she didn’t want to jog on the mornings she was going to stay up late, like Saturdays.

“Alright then, walk you to your car?” he asked.

“Actually, I had to park on the other side of the brewery today,” she told him, pointing to the path that cut across the back. When he started to say he could still walk her she said, “I’m well past the gate which locks behind itself this time of night and you’d have to walk completely around the block to get back. So don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ve parked over there before, it’s a safe, well-lit area. You head home. Doctor’s don’t get enough sleep as it is.”

“If you’re sure?” 

“I’m sure.” Lucy patted his arm. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Okay then.” He gave her a hug. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Noah.” She hugged him back.

They set off in different directions, Lucy taking the path that crossed in front of Flynn’s RV. The light was on and the door open, a plastic trash bag sitting on the ground outside. Looked like he was cleaning up before turning in. 

She thought about stopping, seeing if he wanted to talk again. She really did enjoy their late night, or whatever time of the day, chats. And maybe… maybe she could be helpful where Lorena was supposed to stay out of it. Encourage him to get himself out there and not be so alone. And then maybe Lucy could sort out her feelings for him and put them away. 

It would help them both.

But she was too tired to have that kind of talk. Somehow the night being slower just made her wish for sleep more.

She kept walking down the path and through the gate, past the dumpsters. 

It really was a safe area, the crime rate fairly low in about a six-block radius. But as her car came into view, something… didn’t feel right. The little hairs stood up and she got the feeling she was being watched. 

“Hello, princess.”

“Emma!” Lucy startled at the woman’s voice. The redhead was standing at the edge of the next alley, as if she’d been waiting for a bit.

“Slow day, huh?” Emma said almost casually, but there was an edge to her voice that kept Lucy on her guard.

“What do you want?” she asked, glancing down the street to see if anyone else was around, but there was not.

Emma let out a short, sharp laugh. “That’s the question isn’t it? But shouldn’t it be more like ‘what can you afford?”

“Emma—”

“My mother worked three jobs.” Emma stood up straight and locked a piercing gaze at her. “I bused and busted my ass in some of the finest restaurants in this city. But I’m just a lowly chef from St. Louis, what could I possibly know about fine dining?”

“I didn’t ask for my privilege,” Lucy defended herself. 

“Yet you benefited from it anyway,” Emma said distastefully. “Little princess, so oblivious.”

“I didn’t want us to be enemies.” Lucy got angry. Rittenhouse was what she was but not _who_ she was. “You were the one who decided to hate me on sight.”

Emma stopped, frowning slightly. “You think I hate you?”

“Uh,” Lucy stumbled.

“I don’t give two shits about you,” Emma nearly laughed. “I already know I’m better than you.”

Lucy was utterly confused. “Then why did you try to sabotage my truck?”

“Because your mother paid me, of course.”

“What?” She must have heard the words incorrectly, but there was a heaviness inside her at realizing she wasn’t surprised by them.

“Messing with you was my ticket in.” Emma stepped forward. “And once I am, Rittenhouse will be mine. None of this bloodline, nepotism crap. What are we, British?”

“Iris nearly died,” Lucy nearly shouted at the woman, “just so you could advance your career?”

“Oh, please.” Emma waved her off. “They have EpiPens stashed everywhere. They can afford it.”

“That’s not the point!”

“It is!” Emma says harshly, getting even closer. “People like Mason, like your family, they make all this money, they control the markets at their whim. I’m not the bad guy here.”

“You’re an opportunist,” Lucy bit back.

“Some people have to create their own opportunities,” she replied snidely. “We don’t get them handed to us.”

“I made my own future,” Lucy stood her ground, echoing words that Amy had drilled into her. “I didn’t have to hurt anyone to do it.”

“We all hurt people, princess.” Emma took another quick step forward and Lucy reacted.

Not actually knowing any martial arts or self-defense, Lucy worked with what she had. She swung her bag at the woman. Inside said bag was a garlic press which Lucy was taking home to fix. The heavy metal object smacked into the woman’s arm and she grunted from the impact having not expected the weight.

Emma looked at Lucy and there wasn’t anger, just a shit-eating grin.

Then she hit Lucy back, a punch across her jaw sent Lucy stumbling back into the wall. Emma lunged forward again but Lucy swung her bag, this time connecting with Emma’s head. A gash opened up on the redhead’s brow as Lucy tasted the blood on her busted lip.

“Bitch,” Emma nearly growled, grabbing Lucy and bashing her against the wall.

Lucy’s head connected with the brick and her vision swam. She managed to utter, “Why are you doing this?”

“People like you would never understand.” Emma sneered. “You don’t even know the meaning of hardship.”

When Emma went to grab her again, Lucy remembered one of the few moves that Amy had tried to teach her. Instead of trying to throw a punch, she pivoted her body and threw her elbow out. The sharp boney part connected to Emma’s breast bone and she shouted in pain.

It was a short lived victory as Lucy’s head was still swimming and she lost her balance. She fell to the ground, taking Emma with her. 

“Lucy!” her name was called in the distance.

“Shit.” Emma scrambled to her feet and ran. Lucy managed to prop herself up, wishing she had a gun, or a rock, something to hit the fleeing woman with. But Emma disappeared around a corner and Lucy was left on the cold concrete.

“Lucy!” Flynn caught her as her whole body seemed to give out. He kneeled beside her and held her in his arms as she began to cry.

Tears, snot, and blood mingled together, her head was throbbing, and why? Because of her family? Distant names on a genealogy chart? Not only did this woman hate her for it, but she attacked Lucy because Carol Preston had asked her to. Lucy’s own mother was sabotaging her life. Trying to control it, even as Lucy was trying to prove she could stand on her own.

And instead Lucy was laying bloody on a sidewalk, being held by one of the only people who didn’t expect anything from her. A man whose own daughter almost died just because he was her friend.

“I can’t,” Lucy whispered through heavy sobs. “I can’t.

…

It was so late it was early as Lucy sat in a small interview room at the police station. She’d already been to the emergency room and gotten a few stitches for her lip and head. No real damage was done, physically, nothing that wouldn’t heal over given time.

But it still happened. Emma attacked her. She had… lied to her. Of course she did. Her mother wouldn’t hire someone to do those things. Yes, she wanted Lucy to return but… but not like this.

“Here you go,” Flynn said as he handed her a cup of water.

“Thank you,” she said quietly as she accepted it.

After the hospital she went to the police station to give her statement about the attack. Flynn had driven her. He’d been at the hospital all night, making calls for her. 

Amy had showed up and offered to murder Emma. Lucy assured her it wouldn’t come to that. Her little sister was upset, perhaps even terrified, and inside Lucy couldn’t say she was fairing much better.

Flynn though, he remained calm. He picked her up off the pavement and carried her back to the Lifeboat. He ordered Jess, who was still there talking to Wyatt, to call 911. He took care of Lucy until the ambulance came, holding her with the steady hands of a soldier, though his eyes spoke of someone who was afraid.

Lucy drank most of the water, her hands where still shaky, her whole body, really. She went to put the cup down and she missed the table. The styrofoam tilted over the edge, spilling the last of the water on herself, but mostly on the floor. It was a stupid little thing and it nearly made her cry.

“I got it,” Flynn said as he grabbed some tissues from a box on the table. He kneeled down on the floor and wiped up the liquid. 

Part of her wanted to point out that she was perfectly capable of cleaning up after herself. The honest part of her knew that she was tired, drained, hurt, and probably couldn’t lift a single kleenex if she tried. “You don’t have to stay.”

“It’s fine,” he said as if he hadn’t been awake for longer than she had, and been through the mind numbing process of sitting in a hospital waiting room and talking to the police.

“No, it’s not,” she bit out, angry at something, everything, it was the last emotional she had left to feel. “You should be at home, ready to see your daughter, who almost died because you know me. I have brought you nothing but pain.”

“No, you haven’t.” He turned to face her, still nearly eye level from his position on the floor. “Emma is responsible for all of this.”

“Right, of course.” Lucy could feel so stupid. “You want to make sure she gets arrested.”

“I do.” He looked at her with a gaze of confusion mixed with anger. “But right now I don’t give a damn about Emma. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?” Lucy snapped.

Flynn opened his mouth slightly, the muscles in his neck moving as he swallowed hard. There was something in his eyes, skittish emotions that threatened to burst out.

The door to the interrogation room opened and Wyatt walked in. Flynn immediately moved to stand, throwing away the tissues he used to clean up the water. Jess, Amy, and the police detective, Marcus, followed in after Wyatt. They’d been giving their statements to the detective. 

“How you doing there?” Amy asked, going over to Lucy and hugging her.

“My head doesn’t throb anymore,” Lucy answered.

“Miss Preston.” Marcus stepped forward, a long look on his face. “I’m going to be blunt. Now, it’s obvious there has been an altercation, but there are no witnesses to what happened. By your own admission you struck Emma first.”

“Because she felt threatened!” Amy nearly shouted.

“That might not matter if Emma spins this right,” Marcus continued explaining. “She still claims she’s innocent about the peanut oil, and that you’re setting her up. If we don’t get more concrete proof and evidence going to motive…”

“I understand.” Lucy nodded, slightly regretted the motion, but that was the least of her problems. 

“Go home, get some sleep,” he told her. “I’m on your side, but I still have to do my job right. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you.” Lucy was indeed appreciative. 

“Come on,” Amy said as she gently hauled Lucy into a standing position. “I’ll take you home.”

Lucy leaned on her little sister, her rock, she didn’t know what she’d do without her. She glanced over at Flynn who was talking to Marcus. She wanted to call out to her friend, but she didn’t know what she’d say. She did know that if she asked him to take her home and stay there to keep guard, he probably would, keeping her protected, and safe.

But she couldn’t hide behind that, at tempting as it might be. No, this situation was only going to resolve itself if she faced it head on.

She knew what she had to do.

…

Lucy went home, to her mother’s house. She was greeted by the smell of warm spices and fresh bread. Her mother always had fresh bread in the house and it brought back so many good memories. They mixed among the bad ones and made everything far more complicated than it should have been.

“Lucy,” her mom said as she enveloped her in a hug.

“Hey, mom.” Lucy hugged her back, conflicted over the fact that she had missed the woman.

“Oh, look at you,” Carol said as she examined the visible cuts and bruises. “You shouldn’t be walking on the streets like that so late at night. It’s just too dangerous.”

“Emma Whitmore did this,” Lucy explained. “She waited for me, after I closed up.”

Carol didn’t even pause or flinch at the name. “Do you have a lawyer yet? I can make a phone call and get you the best.”

“I can handle it myself, thank you,” Lucy assured her.

“Come here,” Carol let out a motherly sigh and lead Lucy into the kitchen. She made them tea as they sat at the kitchen island. “You’re an amazing cook, you know that.”

Lucy nodded, unable to formulate a reply. Even after all these years of trying to be her own person, a part of herself still desired the approval and praise of her mother. The woman who taught her how to cook, how to julienne and deglaze. They used to spend so many hours together with the joy of cooking… but her father, her real father, not her biological one, died and then her mother… she changed. Became more driven, more ambitious for Lucy.

There was no doubt that Carol loved her daughter, but that love had been left to boil down in the pot and turned into something burnt and congealed.

“You know, Rittenhouse is negotiating buying up the _Le Sanglier Délicat_ ,” Carol commented. “Four restaurants in SoCal, all classic French cooking, your favorite. You could be the head chef at any of them. A whole kitchen, a full staff, and room to actually work.”

 _“But what about the current head chefs?”_ Lucy wanted to ask. But of course Rittenhouse wouldn’t think twice about removing any who didn’t want to play their game of compromising quality for profits. And even if all the chef’s were on board, her mother wouldn’t think twice of tossing one aside so Lucy could have a spot she didn’t earn.

“And you’d have your own driver,” Carol continued. “No more walking alone late at night. You’d be safe there.”

A parent was supposed to make their children feel safe, they were supposed to look after them. But if Emma was right…

“Why did you hire Emma Whitmore to sabotage me?” Lucy blurted out. She couldn’t hold it inside anymore, follow this charade. If her mother was responsible for what happened, she needed to know.

Carol laughed it off. “My dear, that’s ridiculous. Has she said anything of the sort? Because this is the first I’m hearing of it.”

Emma had indeed not repeated that part since the attack. No, Emma’s story was that she wanted to talk to Lucy, see if they could clear up the misunderstanding, and then Lucy attacked her because clearly it was Lucy who had something out for Emma. 

“What did you promise Emma?” Lucy continued. “A job at Rittenhouse? Her own restaurant as part of some kind of settlement deal when it would actually be a payoff? Or maybe just a big lump of cash?”

“Lucy, please,” Carol became annoyed and flustered. “You are my daughter, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

“But you’d let me get hurt,” Lucy said and held up her hand, a scar on the meaty part of her palm still visible after all these years.

“You had to learn how dangerous cooking can be,” Carol defended herself.

“So you just let me slice my hand open instead of stopping and explaining things to me,” Lucy nearly shouted. “And you’d throw away entire bowls of batter or racks of meat and make me start again if they weren’t exactly perfect.”

“It was for your own good,” Carol spoke firmly, as if she didn’t see any problems in what she did, but then of course she didn’t. “I pushed you because I wanted to make you stronger person, a stronger cook. You needed to be.”

“Why?” Lucy pleaded, needing to know why her mother could hurt her so much and still believe she was helping.

“Because Rittenhouse is yours, it belongs to you.” Carol reached up and brushed Lucy’s hair away and held the sides of her face. “All you have to do it take it.”

“I don’t want it,” Lucy whispered back.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’ve made me so proud, but you have to come back, you have such an incredible future ahead of you.”

“And if I decide to just give it all up, never pick up a recipe again?” Lucy verbally fought back. “What then?”

“I’m not worried about that,” Carol assured her with a smile, “because Rittenhouse will never allow it.”

…

Flynn heard a knock on the door of his RV. He glanced out the window and saw Lucy. Opening the door, he was struck by how tired she looked, mentally exhausted. She had a bottle of vodka in one hand and some kind of book in the other.

She didn’t even have to ask, he moved aside to let her in. 

Lucy sat down on the sofa, curling up. She plopped the book in her lap as she opened the vodka bottle. He offered her a mug but she took a swig out of the bottle anyway.

“I don’t know what to do,” she told him and the words were so small, and raw, he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and let her know it was okay. He wasn’t sure if she’d appreciate it though.

“Have you, ah, spoken to Amy?” he asked her, grabbing his coffee and settling into the chair.

“At length,” she admitted, “but it’s like you said, she’s too close to the situation, like me. That’s… that’s why I’m here.”

Lucy sat the vodka to the side and picked up the book. Flynn realized it was a journal, one that looked to have every page filled with the thoughts of its writer. 

“This is mine,” she explains, running her hand over it before opening it. “When I was younger, I wrote down everything. It felt like if I could write it down, then it could never disappear, never be forgotten. I thought it was silly at the time, until my father died…”

“They’ll always be with us,” he said softly.

“Yes,” she gave him a thankful smile. They both knew the pain of loss, that it took on many shapes.

Lucy then turned to a particular page of the journal. “But like I said, I wrote down _everything_.” She let out a huff of a laugh. “Do you remember back in the early 90s, when Rittenhouse bought the Doc’s Burgers chain?” 

“I remember when my mother and I came to the states,” he thought back on those memories. “She said the burgers didn’t taste nearly as good as they used to.”

“Yeah, that’s because they changed the recipe for the meat seasoning, and they did that because they were getting kickbacks from a local supplier.” Lucy turned to another page, but still held her finger in the first one. “I didn’t know what a kickback was at the time, but when I reread what I wrote as an adult, things become pretty clear.”

“They told you about the kickbacks?” Flynn said curiously.

“Not exactly.” Lucy smirked slightly. “I was a very perceptive kid, but they just saw me as a kid.” She turned back to the original page. “I was left to play in the living room when my mom, Ben Cahill, and a few other Rittenhouse Board Members came over and discussed Doc’s. The owner didn’t want to sell.” Lucy turned the journal around and showed everything she had scribbled in a neat, but fourteen-year-old’s handwriting. “They literally conspired to run her out of business so she would sell.”

Flynn shook his head in disgust. “This doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“Wouldn’t surprise a lot of people,” she agreed. “It’s been suspected Rittenhouse forced Doc out, but there is no proof. Except… there is…” Lucy held up the journal. “A journalist worth their salt could use what I wrote in here to follow leads they didn’t know existed, to corroborate evidence that is questionable, to… to completely rewrite Rittenhouse’s history.”

“And ruin them,” Flynn said when he realized where she was going with this. Even if popular opinion might not be swayed easily, Rittenhouse would be swallowed in litigation that even their big pockets wouldn’t be able to hold. 

“Yes.” Lucy spoke very quietly, closing the journal.

“What’s stopping you?” he asked without reproach.

“Rittenhouse owns so many chains and businesses,” she pointed out with a heavy weight. “How many innocent people would get hurt, lose their jobs, all because I wanted to get revenge against my mother who wants to control me so badly she hired a woman to sabotage and hurt me?”

“How many people have already gotten hurt, lost their jobs, because of Rittenhouse?” Flynn pointed out softly. “How many more if they are left unchecked?”

“Hence…” Lucy held up the bottle of vodka. 

“What did Amy say when you told her?” he asked to distract from the alcohol.

“Burn it all down,” Lucy laughed rather than cried. 

Flynn let her have a moment to gather herself. There was such a huge weight on her he could see it in the sag of her shoulders. “It, ah, seems like you hold Rittenhouse’s future in your hands.”

“What if I didn’t?” she asked quietly.

“How so?” he asked in return.

Lucy uncurled and scooted forward to sit on the edge of the sofa. She reached out with the journal as if to hand it to him. “You’ve been hurt by Rittenhouse too.”

“You want to give the decision to me?” he asked as he eyed the journal, not yet reaching forward for it, nor rejecting it.

“Rittenhouse isn’t your family, you’ll have a clearer head about it,” she explained, looking into his eyes and holding his gaze, “and this journal has more than references to Rittenhouse activities, but also my thoughts, hopes, and dreams. It’s everything about me until I was nineteen, distilled into two-hundred and fifty pages, front and back.”

“And you trust me with it?” Flynn was in awe.

“I do trust you, without question.”

Flynn takes a moment to let that sink in. This beautiful, smart, independence woman in front of him was trusting that she could lay herself bare and he wouldn’t betray that trust.

Of course he wouldn’t.


	7. Mise en Place

**Mise en Place**

_The History of RRG_ \- A Five-Part Expose on the Virulent Rise of the Rittenhouse Restaurant Group by Kate Drummond

It was all everyone was talking about, at least until the next soundbite. But that was all it took. The government officials Rittenhouse had paid off were now being investigated, and were quite eager to trade for what they knew. Those who were directly wronged by them now had an avenue to take their revenge in court. 

The dominos were falling… and Rittenhouse would never recover, at least, not without a complete overhaul of all management and their business practices.

As for Lucy Preston, heir to the Rittenhouse legacy, her name never came up. 

This was by design, of course. Over a few months, Flynn worked with Drummond to use what was in the journal to find concrete evidence against Rittenhouse. He was meticulous in combing the details, while making sure Drummond found her own evidence, separate from the journal. He wanted to avoid it ever being mentioned or directly referenced.

Lucy trusted him with her journal, he was not going to let it be splashed across a newspaper, or subpoenaed in a trial. No, he protected Lucy’s privacy while still ensuring Drummond had what she needed to bring Rittenhouse down.

“I can hardly believe this is real,” Lucy said as she was reading an actual hard copy of the newspaper article. She was sitting on the sofa in Flynn’s RV on a Tuesday night when their food trucks wouldn’t be open.

“You gave me the journal, Lucy,” he said softly, with perhaps a touch of reverence. “You started all of this.”

“And thanks to you,” she smiled up at him, “no one will ever know.”

“Except Kate.”

“And Amy.”

They both chuckled. 

A weight had lifted off Lucy’s shoulders. Rittenhouse was paying for what they did. Emma had gone quiet, seemingly happy to let everything drop since she now lost her benefactors. And Lucy was left alone to do what she loved… cook and create.

Flynn passed her back the journal. She rolled it over in her hands. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he replied back softly.

They glanced into each other’s eyes and the distance between them felt like a chasm, almost frightening to cross. One wrong move and the drop below would be unsurvivable. But something told him that it might just be worth the risk.

“Flynn.” “Lucy.”

An embarrassed chuckle echoed about the RV. 

“Go ahead,” Flynn insisted. “You first.”

“I, ah…” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I was thinking that we could go try that new Czech place.”

“I hear it’s good,” he replied, nervously tapping his finger on against the side of the chair. “Do you, ah, want to invite Amy or Jiya?”

“No,” she replied quickly, then blushed. “I thought we could go alone, together, if that’s alright with you?”

“Like a date?” he said, hopeful.

Lucy smiled. “Exactly like a date.”

“I’d like that.”

“So would I.”

…

“It’s nine o’clock,” Lorena said from the front of the food truck, and Iris pouted. “You know the rules.”

The girl sighed deeply then looked at Wyatt. “Don’t burn the soparnik,” she said gravely.

“I won’t, I promise!” Wyatt put his hand over his heart.

“I’ll keep an eye on him, _mala cvijeta_ ,” Flynn assured his daughter, chuckling lightly.

Wyatt shook his head. “I’ve had drill instructors less bossy,” he said good naturedly.

“Eh,” Flynn shrugged, “gets it from her mother.”

“Ain’t my fault you have a type.” Lorena smirked.

“What do you mean, type?” Iris asked. “Type of what?”

Lorena stared blankly at her daughter for a moment. “A type of person he likes to kiss.”

“Eww, gross.”

Wyatt snorted out a laugh and Flynn wacked him with his arm.

“Come on,” Lorena said with a laugh. “Let’s get you home.”

Flynn followed them outside, it had died down as it usually did at this point. So he took the time to hug Iris, always so proud of his little chef. 

Then he watched as she left, saying goodbye to everyone. Jess was outside, she always seemed to be in the courtyard around nine. She gave Iris a two-handed high-five. Iris laughed at something Mark said when she got to Indian Soul. 

“She really is adorable,” Lucy said as she walked up beside him.

“Yeah, she is.” He smiled and glanced over at her. Children wasn’t exactly a subject they had discussed much, but then they hadn’t quite gotten to that level yet. 

Flynn leaned down to kiss her, something soft and gentle. This wasn’t new anymore, but it still made his insides a bit wobbly. She smiled into the kiss, her hands on his waist, fitting against him so perfectly. When they pulled apart, he marveled at the amazing woman in front of him. Smart, determined, and a damn fine cook. 

He never would have thought someone like her would want a broken soldier like himself.

“You really do deserve more than this courtyard,” he said, knowing that’s all he had to offer her.

Their attention was drawn by laughter, their friends standing off to the side, talking amongst themselves. Noah seemed to have appreciated whatever Wyatt said, chuckling. Jiya was holding a bottle of beer out of reach of Rufus who playfully tried to grab it back. Amy was showing Jess something on her phone.

“But this is what I want.” Lucy laid her head on his chest. “And I couldn’t want for anything more.”

Flynn rested his chin atop her head, holding her close. He had made a home here, and so had she. 

Three groups of people started to filter out of the Lifeboat, beers in hand and ready to eat. Lucy pulled away semi-reluctantly because as much as they enjoyed their time together, they both did love to cook. 

“Back to work,” he said.

“You love it.” Lucy grinned.

“I love you too,” he practically blurted out the words.

Lucy chuckled, grinning up at him lovingly. “You’re such a dork, and I love you.” She gave him a quick kiss.

“Are you, ah, staying over tonight?” he asked before she stepped away.

“Oh, that is something I definitely want to do.” Lucy grinned, throwing in a devious wink as she started back to her food truck. “I hope you’re hungry.”

Flynn had made it all the way back to Amehrana before he realized what Lucy actually meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my AU Food Truck fic. Cooking shows are my happy place and we all need our happy places right now. <3


End file.
